A Matter of Perspective

Around 1990, working my "real job", I was on assignment in St. Gedeon, Quebec, Canada doing some work for Canam Steel at their home plant. I was there for a little over a week, during which time they housed me in a pretty nice country inn - the 'Benedict Arnold' (he's a star in that part of the continent - that's OK, there's heroes on both sides of every conflict). The inn was very near the plant, there was a very good steakhouse/restaurant/bar located within, and they assigned a local engineer to work with me directly throughout my stay - was no need for me to have a rental car of my own. One evening after dinner I was looking for something to do. Roger (the engineer) had headed home, so if I wanted to venture very far, I was "hoofing it". St. Gedeon is a small town with not a whole lot within walking distance of the inn. There was a small antique shop across the street - figured I would walk over and pick up a gift to take back home to my Mom.

The shop was owned and operated by a little old lady. We were the only two in the shop. Everything in the shop had been hand crafted by her - paintings, pottery, figurines - all a work of art. We got to talking - asked her where she developed her talent. Found out that she had been imprisoned at Auschwitz prison camp as a young girl. The only one of her family to have survived. Showed me her identification number still tattooed on her arm. Said that she would gather whatever she could -  sticks, stones, grass - anything - and fashion small sculptures - mostly of animals, which she observed around the camp and loved. She showed me a few of the originals that she still had in the shop. Luckily, she let me purchase one. It is a small figurine crafted from a cobble, twig, stick and grass. Depicts a small yellow bird dropping her eggs to a squirrel who is carrying them off to safety. All of her little sculptures had something to do with survival.

Squirrel rescuing the eggs of the small yellow bird

There was a small birds nest with one or two eggs located
on the limb next to the bird - they must have fallen off at
some time and were lost - wish they were still there.

They say that death begins in the eyes. Lookin' at this lady as she spoke, I could tell that she had died a long time ago. I like to look at that little sculpture from time to time, and think of it when things get tough, or worse, when I or others around me begin to take all this meaningless climbing, paddling, etc.. a little too serious.