The Little Red Hen

The tale of the Little Red Hen has been much on my mind recently. If you don’t remember it, here’s a thumbnail version:

One day, the Little Red Hen found some grain on the ground. She asked the barnyard, “Who will help me plant the grain?” “Not I,” said the dog, so the Little Red Hen planted the grain. When it sprouted she asked the barnyard, “Who will help me water the grain?” “Not I,” said the duck, so the Little Red Hen watered the grain. When it grew tall she asked the barnyard, “Who will help me harvest the grain?” “Not I,” said the goose, so the Little Red Hen harvested the grain and asked the barnyard, “Who will help me grind the grain?” “Not I,” said the turkey, so the Little Red Hen ground the grain and asked the barnyard, “Who will help me bake the bread?” “Not I,” said the cow, so the Little Red Hen baked the bread and when it came out of the oven, she asked the barnyard, “Who will help me eat the bread?” “I will!” said the dog, duck, goose, turkey and cow. The Little Red Hen said, “Screw you slackers,” and ate the bread all by herself.

That’s an extremely loose adaptation, but you get the drift. This story has been stuck in my head lately, probably because I feel an affinity for the Little Red Hen. Sequoia and I were definitely slackers until well into our twenties, but circumstances conspired to deliver a few well-timed wake up calls upside our heads. I went back to school, he went back to school, we graduated, found jobs in our fields and went to work. We didn’t take big vacations, we didn’t drive nice cars, we shopped for bargains and wore thrift store shoes. After 25 years in the workforce, we’re in pretty good shape. Neither of us can afford to retire, but we’ve paid off our mortgage and our cars, we have a little bit of money set aside for retirement and we have decent jobs. I feel pretty darn lucky, but it was more than luck. We worked our asses off to get where we are.

I know that many, many people work their asses off and end up with much less than what we have. I know that we’ve been remarkably blessed with health, opportunities and financial help at a couple of key moments. Here’s the thing: we made the most of those blessings. We made some hard choices and now, after all these years, they are paying off. So, when Loosey Goosey wants to eat the bread that I’ve worked so hard to bake, I have to admit, it pisses me off. I would feel differently if Loosey Goosey was disabled or disadvantaged, but I have no compassion for the Loosey Gooseys who were too damned lazy to work.

When you put off the hard choices, they just become harder. As Chekhov tells us in Uncle Vanya, life is work. We will work Vanya and then we will rest.