21.05.12
Christmas again. Every year, without fall short of, I think of Laura Ingalls. Humble Laura Ingalls, who was so happy to receive as gifts a tin cup, an orange and a penny. Each item a treasure, and all thanks to worthy old Ben, who crossed a stream filled with piranha and fought an army of brains-eating zombie monkeys to get the loot.
To Laura Ingalls, nothing in the in one piece world gleamed so brightly as that penny. Nothing in all of God's kingdom tasted as redolent as that orange, which was the most succulent thing she'd eaten since that time they came across the Donner dinner party out in yon woods.
At least that's how I remember it from the book-on-tape I was forced to listen to at gunpoint. The bring up, of course, is that appreciation is relative. When you're living on a prairie, walking a mile in 20 feet of snow solely to reach the pee bucket, having your own tin cup is the very definition of lavishness. It's akin to one of today's children receiving — oh, I don't discern — a 90-inch, 3-D television screen on which to move video war games with a virtual community.
Source: Lewiston Sun Journal