Clear your mind of can't.
Samuel Johnson
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The Dam
by Tim Cimino
Once upon all time, there was a huge dam built by the ancients. On the stream below the dam lived a village of people. The dam was old and occasionally pieces of it, rocks and timber, would be washed down. Long ago, when the village was first established, the elders decided that all of the villagers were responsible for the upkeep of the dam. It became common practice for each able-bodied person to climb the hill once a day, bringing up a boulder or limb to place back on the dam.
However, as the village grew, people found many good reasons not to make the walk up the hill. The merchants of the town each pointed out the necessity of providing bread, fabric, tools or whatever they happened to be selling. One youth, a student, felt his time was better spent on education. His dream was to rebuild the dam. A village girl fell in love with him and married him. She stopped her walks, because it was her nuptial year, a time to concentrate on building a home and her relationship with her husband. By the end of the year, however, she was pregnant and so could not make the strenuous walks.
In the village, however, was one old man who continued to carry his share of logs and stones daily. Seeing him, a man with a crippled leg called out to him, “I cannot carry my share, would you carry it for me?” “Gladly,” the old man replied. And a few others were touched by this, and renewed their walks up the hill.
But not enough, for soon the dam was looking noticeably worse. Finally, a village meeting was called for all the people to attend. The old man who made the trips daily confronted the others, saying, “We should put back one stone and plank for each one that falls, otherwise the dam will fall in and many will die.”
They agreed, yet all of them gave good reasons why they should not make the trip. The village doctor spoke. “Surely my work is more important than carrying stones up a hill.”
The old man said to him, “With your wealth, arrange for someone to carry your share.”
The woman who had been pregnant brought in her new baby girl and spoke laughingly, “Surely I cannot make walks up the hill for now I must take care of my child.”
The old man replied, “Until she can carry your share, you can carry her share.”
This provoked her, “Who are you to tell me what I should do?”
He replied, “I am not telling you what you should do, but there are consequences if you don’t.”
A religious man spoke up, “Well put, old man, but I attend to spiritual matters. These take priority over the material world.”
The old man looked him in the eye and spoke, “Anyone who claims exemption or special privilege is merely claiming the right to burden others unfairly.”
But a villager not known for his industry cried out, “Away with this man, for someday we all must die!”
The next day the dam broke.
A thirty-foot-high wall of water hit the village. The old man, who was carrying a log up the hill, was the first to get caught in the flood. Because the daily walks carrying wood had built up the strength in his arms, he was able to hold onto the log until it became wedged in the top branches of a tree, and this saved him.
Except for the old man, all of the particular people mentioned in this story were drowned. At one point, a basket carrying the infant girl rushed by the old man. He lunged for it, but could not reach it before it was swept downstream. All he could do was hold onto the tree until the waters subsided. As he climbed down from the tree he found the body of the religious man. The religious man had been caught and drowned upside-down in the lower branches of the same tree that saved the old man.
A few of the villagers who didn’t carry their share of logs and stones escaped alive, while some of the villagers who followed the old man’s example and carried their share drowned.
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