on decadence and its rewards

aw rats

They say the Timothy Eaton story was one of rags to riches to rags again in three generations. Knowing nothing of the family, merely having overheard the saying once, I do believe that I can tell a more extreme version of this story.

It began this pas spring. Spring was wonderful. Oh sure, things started out a bit skinny, but that’s what spring’s like. It’s a time for gettin’ out, gettin’ around, meeting up with the ladies. Planting a lot of seeds so to speak. You know plant a little here, plant a little there, getting stuff done.

There wasn’t much, but there was plenty to go around. Even though we were fed, I resented the fact that we fed on scraps. You know, picking up the scraps, right? I’d get upset complain to my dad that we were getting stiffed. He’d tell me to calm down, be grateful, don’t get too pushy.

Don’t press your luck buddy. We’ve got a good thing going here. Don’t over extend yourself. You remember the flood? That time the waters came and came and came and did’t relent?

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