Skip to main content

A Barrel by The Sea - A Modern Parable

One day I went to the sea...to catch a fish for my dinner. Once there, I saw a man standing beside a barrel on the shore. He beckoned me.

"Are you here to fish, friend?", he asked.

"Yes sir, I am. For my dinner", I replied.

The stranger pointed to the barrel. "Have a fish from my barrel. They are good fish. Perfect for your meal. And they are free!" The stranger went on about the quality of his fish, and that having a fish from his barrel would keep me from the risks of venturing into the deep, dangerous sea. I thanked him for his concern, as I briefly wondered who this man was, and why he stood on the shore with a barrel of fish. Where did the barrel come from? Where did the fish come from? Was he doing this out of concern for the welfare of his fellow man, or was he in some way required to do this?

I looked out at the sea. Therein lie a vast number of different species of fish. All varieties for all tastes. From seabass to shark. Fish so small one might not notice them, to fish so large they can swallow a man.  

"May I?", I asked the man as I moved my hand to the barrel.

"By all means", he replied.

I reached into the barrel and easily got hold of a fish, which I took out of the barrel. It was a carp.

"A fine fish, indeed!" said the man. "It will make a good meal for you."

One can eat carp, but they are dirty fish. Bottom feeders. It requires extra steps to filter out the dirt from the fish. Carp are bony fish. It would require cautious preparation so that I did not ingest a fishbone, which might get stuck in my throat and cause me to choke. I placed the carp back in the barrel.

"Are these all carp?" I asked the man. 

"Yes," he answered. "They are good fish and will provide a good, nutritious meal for you!"  

I thanked him but declined, and began to walk closer to the sea, the man began to argue with me about the dangers of the deep sea. He warned me of waves and an undertow that could drag me to a watery grave. I might not even catch a fish and will go hungry. 

Growing weary of his argument, I walked back to my village. Hungry, I decided to stop by the inn for my dinner. I know the innkeeper. I like him and I trust him. I told him about the man with a barrel by the sea. He sighed and told me that others had told him similar stories. Some took the free fish. Some did not. Some who took the fish, grumbled about the quality of it, while some had no complaint at all. 

The innkeeper asked if I was hungry and if would I care for a meal. Knowing full well that his food was inexpensive, basic fare, I agreed. It would satisfy my hunger, afford me the required nutrition, and would also benefit members of the community; his cook, the farmers, the butcher, etc. 

While waiting for my meal, the innkeeper and I spoke of local news in our community. A fancy restaurant had opened just outside the village. It offered a wide variety of exotic meals, often rich in spices but ultimately lacking in nutrition. And all at a hefty price, especially for the average villager. No, I was happy to have a nice, traditional meal at the inn. While eating my meal, I thought about the man with the barrel of fish by the sea. While the new restaurant charged high prices for its meals, the man by the shore was trying, with some effort, to give away his fish. To what end? He seemed almost desperate to keep me from the deep and dangerous sea. But why?  


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Not At MY Age! (for the nebby folks)

 This will come as no surprise to anyone - I'm not a morning person. Those of us who prefer the dark, quiet hours of the night do occasionally have to deal with the reality that there is a 5:30 in the AM as well as PM. It's an uncomfortable reality, but that's just life.  I had to deal with the AM version yesterday. Long story short, I had a doctor's appointment at 8:30, had no idea where the office was, and still had to attempt to function. My morning routine is non-negotiable. It's really the only way I can deal with most people. Yes, copious amounts of coffee are involved.  I had a check-up last week. My regular doc (I call him "Doogie" but I'm not convinced he fully understands the reference), who is younger than some shoes I own, was concerned about a growth on my nose. I wasn't...but I don't have the magic letters following my name, so my opinion is moot.  Let me be clear, I've dealt with this before. As cancers go, my previous bout o...

Meatball

 I was always a dog person. I grew up with dogs. Dear ol' dad was never a fan of cats. Mom loved all animals. But ours was a dog house. Plain and simple. My first experience living with a cat was thanks to a roommate. He had a 40-pound lump of feline ferocity named Meatball. When he moved in with his girlfriend, the cat was left behind, due to the girlfriend's alleged allergies. I believe the reality was more like she was allergic to the oversized beast's personality.  Meatball was just mean. Maybe that's the wrong word. In his defense, he was a foundling. My roomie worked at a pizza joint, and Meatball was found in the alley behind the place...noshing on a discarded meatball. This was the cat's preferred food.  Aside from his obesity, Meatball had ear mites or something as a kitten. His ears flopped down, not unlike a pig.  Just imagine a 40-pound cat, with floppy ears, and a bad disposition. Oh, he was mostly white with some black spots. On the rare occasions he w...

The Alleged Life and Times of Wynn Rainey

Inspiration can come from the most unexpected situations. - MCM Everyone in town knew Wynn Rainey, but no one really knew Wynn Rainey. Even today, in and around Downey Bluff, the Rainey name will get folks to talking. As far away as Norwich, people still remember him. Everyone has a story, and more importantly, an opinion. Depending on who you talk to, some will say Wynn Rainey was a man of means. The Wenberg family, who owned and ran the local savings and loan, did a lot of business with him, if stories are to be believed. Oddly enough, there never seemed to be an active account in his name. The same people who told these tales were the same ones who’d tell you that assets are better than cash. Wynn Rainey always seemed to have the latter. Usually at least a pocketful. Some would tell you he was loose as a goose with his money. Some would tell you he could squeeze ten cents out of a buffalo nickel’s ass. Lots of the old timers will share stories of Rainey paying everyone’s tab at...