Friday, June 24, 2005
Sandcastle Contests -- And the Moral of the Story Is
A couple of weeks ago, Tim B. and I won first place in the Sandcastle contest at our company's annual Summer outing. We also finished dead last.
The victory was extremely instructive -- we won by being the only entrants, and it occurred to me that solitude of endeavor is probably the best way to ensure victory. Not, perhaps, the most sporting but, let's face it -- if our unicellular ancestors had stopped to consider the concept of "sporting" before embarking on the natural selection process, we wouldn't even be here. Worst of all, this blog wouldn't even exist. (Or it would be composed by the descendents of more ruthless unicellular organisms who, perhaps residing in New York and driving SUV's, would not have been quite as selfless in their approach.)
As a Boomer, I've competed with lots of people all of my life -- and where has it gotten me? Spending my Friday nights staring at a cathode ray tube, writing about sandcastles. Last week there was an article in the Boston Globe about becoming a hermit. I could do that -- but the problem is that I'd have to be the best hermit around. And, when you're a hermit, you're automatically the best -- and the worst.
So here's the question. If good people go to heaven, and bad people go to hell, and you're a hermit -- doesn't that make you the best and the worst person around? Don't you go to both?
The victory was extremely instructive -- we won by being the only entrants, and it occurred to me that solitude of endeavor is probably the best way to ensure victory. Not, perhaps, the most sporting but, let's face it -- if our unicellular ancestors had stopped to consider the concept of "sporting" before embarking on the natural selection process, we wouldn't even be here. Worst of all, this blog wouldn't even exist. (Or it would be composed by the descendents of more ruthless unicellular organisms who, perhaps residing in New York and driving SUV's, would not have been quite as selfless in their approach.)
As a Boomer, I've competed with lots of people all of my life -- and where has it gotten me? Spending my Friday nights staring at a cathode ray tube, writing about sandcastles. Last week there was an article in the Boston Globe about becoming a hermit. I could do that -- but the problem is that I'd have to be the best hermit around. And, when you're a hermit, you're automatically the best -- and the worst.
So here's the question. If good people go to heaven, and bad people go to hell, and you're a hermit -- doesn't that make you the best and the worst person around? Don't you go to both?
# posted by Bill @ 7:20 PM 
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One definite possibility would be if I were to sing selections from Gilbert and Sullivan while we built the sandcastle. Rest assured that the beach would be empty in 30 seconds or less.
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