Money for sole

This morning, bright -- well, cloudy - and early, Brad & I ventured into Richmond to buy fish. Okay, that's not entirely accurate. My grandparents wanted to go to Fisherman's Wharf to buy fish from the fishers.

"eight-thirty!" said grandpa.

"yes, grandpa." said I.

"we have to get there at eight-thirty," he continued, "so you have to get us at eight."

"...." I respond, "o...k..."

So up we were this morning, in the wee hours of a Saturday morn. Seven-ish is considered a wee hour on a precious summer Saturday, I don't care how early you have to get up on a usual basis, alright??

We drove our handy-dandy reliable down to Richmond because we had a scheduled tune-up at noon. Our loving parents' green van (the infamous green van) served as transportation to the wharf.

It was cool and windy down there, but thankfully, no rain. Lots of seafood to be had. There weren't many shoppers, perhaps due to the weather?? Anyway, grandma and grandpa browse quickly past the first few boats. They weren't interested in shrimp or prawns. They stop at a boat with fish.

"how much, Sharon?" they as me in their dialects, depending on which they're tuned into at the moment.

The vietnamese fish matron understands some chinese bartering language, it seems. She tells us.

Grandpa eyes a basket of some sort of sole, I can't remember what it was called. The fish master just pulled them out of the fish receptacle in the water. They were live, vigorous, and flappy.

"how much?" he inquires.

"$4 per pound" says their young sales person.

"$3 per pound" says the fish matron.

"$3 per pound, grandpa." I say to him.

"ask if I can have it for $2.50" he wants me to barter for him.

If you know me, you will know that I don't barter. Not that I don't value our dollars and cents, but really, what is an extra $3 bucks to me, in the light of eternity? in the light of... tomorrow?

The fish matron understands and shakes her head. The young sales person is a shmoozer, a clever one, and asks, "how much will you buy?" I quickly rattle the question to gramps.

He gestures over the entire basket. All of it.

The fish is weighed, they're charged $25 for the sole. Spend another $5 bucks for another type of fish, and we're done at fisherman's wharf in less than 10 minutes. I made Brad hold the bag of sole because they were moving so forcefully, I thought they'd tear themselves away from me. I warned Brad not to drop it or the fish will swim back to freedom and the g-parents will not be impressed. Freedom!! They can smell they ocean, that sole.

Back in the day, when life was a struggle, home was the slums, and congee was the staple, $3 dollars and cents amounted to much. Every bit counted. Bartering was as much of the way of the customer as it was the merchant. This isn't the way with my upbringing, my culture, my personal perspective to saving souls. While saving the $3 was important to my grandparents, that $3 dollars could buy me a cup of coffee. A donut perhaps. Some vegetables for sure. And I wouldn't miss it. I wouldn't have missed it either if I gave it to the fish matron, who is trying to make a living as much as I want to eat fish, and I do like fish.

This is a disjointed post because I am not accustomed to so many hours of wakefulness lately which leaves me somewhat disoriented and unable to type properly at this point in the evening, but what I'm trying to say is that while I wouldn't do as my grandparents did, they're not wrong.

More important for me is my action of giving. Giving in love. Giving in generosity. Giving with the benefit of the doubt. I don't know what seeds are planted, when seeds are planted, when they're being watered.

The g-parents have other ways that are particular to them. Because God uses people in different ways, at different times, for different purposes.

And in other news, I have a different do.

titled: hats off to us! hehehe

You can somewhat see my new style au-naturel (without product) in this picture. I'm trying to get Brad to smile. He kept "forgetting" to look at the camera, instead focusing on his own visage. I have to admit, I'm usually pretty fascinated with his own visage too.

p.s. I just re-read this post and noticed all mine errors. Please pardon them for the glimmers of lessons to be learned. I am too tired to go back to fix the mistakes. Perhaps in the morn. Thanks. I appreciate your language graciousness.