The boy carried the hot can of coffee up to the old man's shack and sat by him until he woke. Once it looked as though he were waking. But he had gone back into heavy sleep and the boy had gone across the road to borrow some wood to heat the coffee.
Finally the old man woke.
"Don't sit up," the boy said. "Drink this." He poured some of the coffee in a glass.
The old man took it and drank it.
"They beat me, Manolin," he said. "They truly beat me."
"He didn't beat you. Not the fish."
"No. Truly. It was afterwards."
"Pedrico is looking after the skiff and the gear. What do you want done with the head?"
"Let Pedrico chop it up to use in fish traps."
"And the spear?"
"You keep it if you want it."
"I want it," the boy said. "Now we must make our plans about the other things."
I finished and submitted my final grades at 12:17 p.m. this afternoon. That's 17 minutes past the time they were due. An hour later, I received an email from the Registrar's Office saying that I hadn't submitted my grades. That's the way a large bureaucratic organization works. It's all about finding mistakes and placing blame. I quickly responded, telling them to recheck their information.
Hosted an astronomy program for the library this evening. Only event this week.
And now, I have a week of empty schedules. No programs to host. No classes to teach. The beginning of summer.
Sant Marty's koan for today: sharks try to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.
No comments:
Post a Comment