Decades ago (the 1960s), I had a girlfriend who told me how to measure my worth. “Make a fist, stick it in a bucket of water. When you pull it out you see no impression. That’s your worth.” She was not being nasty; she was expressing the truth as she saw it. Likewise, recently I saw a measure of **my** worth.
Many months ago, I hired a man to take down, and repair, the ceiling fixture in the laundry room. The “Casablanca fan” came down but the repairman never returned to complete the task. My landlady accused me of stealing the fixture. In February, her son-in-law told me he would hang… if I bought another fan. I made the purchase a couple of days later but “Sonny” did not return until mid-May. My fixture and two ladders were adjacent to the laundry room door. After my cruise, I found a new fan in the laundry room and my fixture ignored. My item had fan and light; the new fixture is fan only. Due to my limited vision, even during daylight hours, I need a flashlight to read the dial on the washer and dryer. ~~ **The measure of my worth?!**
After the father of my sons deserted us (in 1964), I raised the three boys alone. They’re grown now but I never receive a Mother’s Day card; never a birthday greeting; never a Christmas gift. *The measure of my worth?**
Only two responses (many weeks ago) to my ad. I won’t renew the advertisement in Foundation for Intentional Community. I’ll continue to enjoy my current excellent living arrangements and trust that “my intentional community” will find me at the appropriate time. No response to my ad is “the measure of my worth”?