On today’s walk, I saw a man painting a sign. He was old, maybe in his fifties or sixties, and he wore the typical white pants as he stood on a ladder with a paintbrush in his hand. For half a second, I was insanely jealous of him. I thought nobody in the world could have a more noble job than painting signs and making the world a little brighter. Nobody else in the world could be as happy or fulfilled as that man. He is the person I want to be. He climbs down the ladder, goes home, and probably drinks a beer, and doesn’t care what anybody else thinks about him.
Continue reading “A Man Painting a Sign”
Things I Learned Growing Up 