Copyright (c) 1997 - Ingrid A. Rimland

August 4, 1997

Good Morning from the Zundelsite:



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."

(William Shakespeare)






Comments? E-Mail: irimland@cts.com

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