Hold on, 'cause I'm going to revert back to my barefoot days once again.
Do you remember the thrill of digging worms? Sounds kind of grubby, doesn't it? But there was a thrill - the thrill of the anticipation of going fishing, and just knowing that every one of those worms meant a fish on the line.
Of course, you remember the thrill of planting the garden in springtime when the ground smells fresh. Sure, you had to do some digging, but you knew that it wouldn't be long before there would be fresh radishes, green peas, okra, and then plump, red tomatoes that tasted like real tomatoes.
And every year for the school-closing picnic we would dig a pit over which the bar-b-que would cook all night long. That was hard work, but fun, because we knew that the next day at noon there would be the best tasting brisket and ribs that you could imagine. And the food the ladies brought to go with it was a sight to behold all spread out on a long table.
And then there came the afternoon activities - speeches, races around the schoolhouse, ballgames, red soda pop and ice cream.
You know, my barefoot days were long before your sneakers hit the ground, but somehow the system by which this world operates seems to include work - work as a means of gaining the pleasures, and the necessities, that we strive for. And let's not forget the goals of the community in which we live. It takes work to reach them also. It doesn't seem to matter whether we want better schools, nicer parks, or a symphony orchestra; there is always work involved.
Sometimes it's hard, grubby work like digging worms, or digging a bar-b-que pit. Not very glamorous.....Or just working on a committee. There really aren't a lot of glamour jobs involved in most good things. And when you see someone honored for their work you can be pretty sure that they have done their share of "digging".
If your spade is a little rusty, spring is a good time to put the shine back on it.
