A Boxing Match

“If you love a flower, don’t pick it up. Because if you pick it up it dies and it ceases to be what you love. So if you love a flower, let it be. Love is not about possession. Love is about appreciation.” Source unknown

I grabbed a box of cereal for breakfast this morning and was amazed at just how strong and robust I had become. I thought it might have been caused by my daily vitamin pills finally beginning to kick in. Having been taking them for at least five years, I thought, “It’s about time!”

But as I took a gander more closely at the carton, I realized I hadn’t suddenly developed the strength of an onscreen superhero, but the box itself no longer contained the volume of cold cereal it had in the past. The manufacturers had kept the box the same height and width I had been accustomed to buying, but it was no longer as thick. Front to back was only about two thirds of what it had previously been.

I hate “tricks” like that. Instead of raising the price of the product to reflect more accurately the cost of producing it, they kept the price the same and simply reduced the volume the shopper was buying. I hate that, and should have been more alert to their nefarious schemes.

As a creature of habit, I will continue to buy what I like. As a creature of habit, I will pay whatever it takes to put what I like on the table. But it does irritate me to know I eat smaller portions (by choice) and yet need to restock the shelves more often because of this sleight of eye perpetrated by the world purveyors of the finest grains, sugars, and fillers!

It reminds me of the days before I bought my coffee by whole bean. I would buy my ground coffee in three pound cans. But then the mountain grown happy pills were put into slightly smaller cans with about twenty percent less coffee with a note plastered across the label: “New and Improved grinding process! The same great taste using less coffee!”

No it didn’t. I still had to use the same number of scoops to make my coffee. Why not just put an ounce of coffee in a tea bag and instruct people to pop it into a pot of hot water? It’ll surely color the water, but we all know it won’t taste like coffee. If I can see through the beverage, it isn’t coffee by any definition that would stand up in court!

No, somehow we have gotten away from being an honest people in this country. We struggle to be honest. It used to be that a person’s word meant something (although I suspect that was more Hollywood-Western dreaming than reality), but at least if one was caught in a lie, one would admit it or have some semblance of shame, but not anymore.

Anyone who watched any television over the past few months can affirm the number of outright lies that were perpetrated on the voting public. It got to a point I just couldn’t watch a program with sound during the commercials. What a crock of hooey.

Fortunately the elections are over, so the 2020 commercials won’t start up for another couple of months, so we can hopefully get back to enjoying sports and entertainment without the taint of politics. For that, I’ll tune into the news when my stomach is up to it.

Meanwhile, the Good Book admonishes us to be honest with one another. Good Manners suggests the same thing. It isn’t just telling the truth that’s important; it is a reflection of who we are. When we lie to one another, it becomes easier to begin lying to oneself, and with that we become lost; not in a going to perdition sort of way, but in terms of knowing who were are, where we are, and (most importantly) Who’s we are. Every lie is a little death.

It’s possible the world’s producers of the world’s food supply are afraid we’ll stop buying their groceries if they’re too honest. I understand fear. But really? I’m going to stop eating because the cost of fertilizer has gone up? That leaves a bad taste in my mouth, and in this, our valley. Harrumph!