Today I am veering from the usual grim "Holocaust" fare. Below
is a brief but absolutely lovely story I want to share this morning to brighten
your day - the lesson being that, as far as our Aryan youth is concerned,
all is not lost as yet.
Beneath that grating, self-centered egotism that propels so many of our
young people, there is still the potential for decency and honor - with
no reward except the knowledge that to do right is the important thing.
Some time ago I had put out the word that I was looking for an artist's
conception for an upcoming, Revisionist novel of mine - its title being
"Lebensraum". Since this multi-generational trilogy deals with
the wheat the European immigrants brought to the prairie, along with their
old-fashioned values, I thought it would add a nice, artistic touch to have
the first letter of each chapter be in the old-fashioned, German-Gothic
font, surrounded by some wheat stalks.
I am not at all visually artistic myself, and I couldn't really visualize
what it was I wanted, and so I took my idea to some appropriate artsy newsgroups
and offered $100 for an artist's rendition.
I had quite a few replies, and one of them stood out - a high school kid
from the Midwest named Steve, a senior in high school, who wrote me a very
nice, intelligent letter.
Steve told me that he wanted to become an artist and would be honored to
be considered for the "job".
Steve's letter stood out, and I started working with him. There was something
simple, kind and honest in the way he offered his talent, and over time
I became quite attached to this friendly American youngster.
The first rendition was very appealing but hastily sketched. I told Steve
to refine it and let me look at it again.
He was prompt and sent me five or six different ideas, two or three of which
I liked. They, too, however, were just as sloppily sketched. I thought that
that's the way an artist worked, and that refinement would come later.
I wrote back, explaining what I had in mind and asked him to work on the
ones that I liked. I told him I eventually wanted camera-ready copy.
He called, and we talked about ideas some more. I could tell that the money
was important to him.
I paid him $50 up-front, and told him I would pay him the balance when I
received a final, satisfactory camera-ready copy.
He started faxing sketches, and this went on for several weeks. He even
went to the library, since he had never seen a stalk of wheat, poor kid!
and I had the feeling that Steve was genuine and sincere and obviously had
a lot of talent - but I must say that, even though he put much time into
this project, the versions that he sent me were still the sloppy kind.
It was quite obvious to me that he had never learned the pride of craftsmanship.
He was a product of our schools, where sloppiness is standard fare.
By then, he had put quite a few hours into this project, and so had I, but
the work just turned sloppier and sloppier. Still, he kept at it, trying
this and trying that. I kept on giving him my feedback, speaking gently
all the time. He didn't ask for it, but I had the feeling that he was really
strapped for money, and so I sent him an extra $20 to cover his faxing and
telephone costs.
I kept on waiting for the final version. It never came. The versions that
he sent were smudgy and dog-earned and could not be used for anything. There
was a lot of genuine good will, but the self-discipline was lacking.
As time went on, Steve's work deteriorated more and more - and then it fizzled
out. As an educator in the past, I had worked quite a bit with gifted kids
like Steve, and I knew that what I saw in Steve was what our sewer public
schools spew out. It was very obvious to me that this young American had
never learned to take pride in the appearance of his work.
It saddened me, but while I realized that he wasn't "my" artist,
and I was not willing to put any more of my time into working with him -
chicken that I am, I did not have the heart to tell him that our deal was
off. The unpleasantness of such an end to our "project" just wasn't
worth it to me.
When Steve told me that he was going to Germany as an exchange student for
the summer, I paid him another $50 and told him that I wished him well.
I didn't want to burden my soul with yet another kid the educational system
had ruined - by dealing him an extra blow.
I thought that that would be the end of it, and I would never hear of Steve
again. I knew he had not earned the money, but I consoled myself with the
thought that maybe I had given a future artist a little push in the right
direction. It wasn't exactly an earth-shaking amount, and I was not going
to waste my time any more with someone who could not put out what I needed.
This happened about a year ago.
To my surprise, I received an e-mail from Steve last week, asking if I had
ever used his art work - and if not, should he pay me back my money?
I told him I hadn't - and finally I told him why.
I told him that I had liked him a lot and did not want to hurt his feelings
by telling him his work was shabby - but that was what it was. I wrote to
him that it would be ever so nice if he would pay me back, but that I didn't
count on it, since I assumed he had no money - and that I wished him well.
As you can see, I am a softie when it comes to gifted kids.
Steve wrote me back that now he had a job in the computer industry - "with
lots of money" - and he WOULD pay me back.
I never expected he would - but a few days ago, there was a check in my
mailbox from Steve. In full.
I say that this check for $120 is probably the best investment this young
kid could have ever made at this point in his life. Unasked, he purchased
back his pride and kept his honesty intact.
You see why our struggle for ethnic pride is so important? We aren't doing
this for ourselves. We're doing this to wrestle back the world for kids
like Steve - kids who still have the spark, the honesty, the decency within
that his own forebears brought to the prairie when they came in their covered
wagons to build America.
Ingrid
Thought for the Day:
"To thine own self be true. And it must follow, as the night the day,
though canst not then be false to any man."