Yahweh Yireh

I stood by the car door and watched my old landlord struggle with his burden across the street. It was still raining and the Christmas lights strung up on the businesses reflected on the puddles as he pulled the bag toward the parking lot. The bag had torn a bit from being dragged on the concrete and a plume of crimson trailed out as he worked his way down the sidewalk. The little red trail diluted in the rain with each pull as he coaxed it along in the pre-dawn minutes.

I couldn’t help but smile as I watched him. Usually around Christmas it’s snowing and miserable here. 50 degrees and rain at 5:30 am is a nice break.

“Getting rid of another one?”

Traffic was light on the street, so I didn’t have to shout very loud to be heard over the soft rain.

He stopped and looked around. Then he squinted and looked across the street. Still not recognizing me, he took off his glasses and wiped them with his scarf.

“Who’s that?”

“I thought you were done with that stuff since you retired.”

He put his glasses back on and squinted down his nose toward me. He pulled his upper lip back and made a face like he just took a bite of rancid asparagus. Then he finally figured out who I was.

“WHOTHEHELLAREYOUTOBETHEHELLOUTOFMEYOUNOGOODDIRTYROTTENSUMBITCHWHYDONTCHAJUSTGETTHEHELL
HELLOUTAHEREANDJUSTLEAVEMEALONENOONEISBOTHERINGYOUYOUBASTARDWHYDONCHAMINDYOUROWNBUSINESSFOR
CHRISTSAKEANDLEAVEMEALONEIDONTHAVETIMETODEALWITHYOUIGOTTAFINISHWITHTHISBASTARDANDFINISHPUT
TINGUPCHRISTMASDECORATIONSNOWGETTHEHELLOUTAHEREYOUYOUNOGODDDIRTYROTTENGODDAMSUMBITCH
BEFOREIGIVE. . .”

I waved him off, “Merry Christmas” I said as I got into the car.

“MERRYCHRISTMASYOURASSYOUASSH. . .” I heard as I shut the Volvo door. I looked through the window and waved at him as he now silently kept chewing me out and pulled too hard on the black plastic bag. The bag ripped and the body rolled out to lie flat on the sidewalk. He was screaming and waving his arms in the early morning light as I pulled away and popped a cd into the player. The Volvo has been a pretty good car for us. Sure, it’s more expensive to fix when things break, but it rarely breaks.

Over the years, I have learned to appreciate imports that are better than what we can get domestically. I think I first learned it in high school – on my first day. John Keenan was my first homeroom teacher in 9th grade. The school I went to was fairly prestigious and has a remarkable history. Mr. Keenan was it’s biggest advocate over the years. He was a short, intense Irishman who expected excellence and would not accept anything less. He was working with an electronic calculator (back then they were incredibly expensive and probably still in “beta”) and the instrument was not working properly. He was trying to help a student understand his grades from the previous semester and they were looking at average scores. The calculator was not cooperative. He walked it over to the round metal trash can in front of where I was sitting and slam-dunked the entire thing into the empty receptacle. He looked at me and admonished me to never by anything American. “It’s crap, all cheap crap. We don’t make anything worth a damn anymore.” Well, it was 1976. People were driving Vega’s, Pinto’s, and my favorite – Gremlins.

At the time he was right. I learned a lot from him and people like him over the years.

He, and many of the other teachers I knew at that school as well as at the colleges I attended had a mindset in common. “Work hard and you will be successful.” The ones that advocated this philosophy backed up what they said in the courses at grading time. I learned that if I worked hard in the class, I would earn a good grade – and I usually did. When I didn’t work hard in the class, I never earned a grade worth mentioning. We didn’t get participation medals.

Ben Franklin is credited with saying something to the effect of: “The harder I work, the luckier I get.”. I had no reason to believe otherwise because it was all reinforced with good grades, I believed what I learned in school until I entered the real working and business world – especially as an entrepreneur. My fancy high school and my college “book learning” didn’t prepare me for the reality of the workplace. It didn’t prepare me for union rules and certainly not for ex-communist Euro-trash supervisors, backstabbers, manipulators, or even dealing with the public in general. I did not realize that most people foolishly or blindly take the easiest route rather than looking at the long-term consequences of their decisions.

Most, but not all.

Sometimes the damnedest things happen. A painting sells off the wall, a call or an email come out of nowhere. A project comes together. A lucky break happens. A plan falls into place against all odds. A dog gets adopted from a shelter. A ten dollar bill is laying on the sidewalk . . . .

Being a good German-Irish Catholic, I had no explanation for this phenomenon because all that people like me know really well is schadenfreude and revenge. Admirable and handy traits to be sure, but how to explain “the harder I work, the luckier I get” thing?

When I fail at something or if something unsavory happens, I can usually point to some mistake or error – usually on my part. If that doesn’t work, then there is usually some scientific reason – bad timing, poor planning, a flawed hypothesis, or just lousy protoplasm.

It’s in our collective history. It happens to everyone. Any religion, any sect. Atheist or not. Sometimes if we just work hard, work smart, and stay focused – the answer is outside of our influence. Sometimes the answer is “no” and sometimes “yes”.

I recently learned an old Jewish saying: “Yahweh Yireh”. I understand that literally it means “God will see to it.”. It apparently started way back in the day with Abraham and explains what is really outside of our control.

“Yahweh Yireh” seems especially appropriate if not poignant at this Christmas time. It’s a nice Christmas present. Times are tough. Life is a bitch and it apparently is supposed to be. Don’t “occupy” anything – work hard, work smart, and notice the gifts. Use stronger trash bags too.

It’ll get better for artists like you and me.

Yahweh Yireh and Merry Christmas.

 

JohnStillmunks.com