I
remember starting a neighbour hood newspaper when I was a youngster.
Everyone read a paper so I was certain that I could get rich. After
finding that I could not type I proceeded to write out
my
copies by hand..... when I found I had no more news I began to
invent information.... when I discovered the cost of developing
pictures I started to draw them in by hand. After 4 hours I grinned
wearily at my first completed, four page copy of the "Real News
Herald". As the blisters on my writing hand burst and I thought
of the effort required to earn another nickel with another copy and
gave up the idea of becoming a newspaper tycoon forever.
My
grandfather nurtured several of my schemes as I got older and wiser.
His encouragement was the single biggest factor in my scrap metal
venture. He assured me that brass and copper were valuable and I
could make a small fortune. I painstakingly sorted through a pile of
scrap to retrieve twenty or so pounds of brass screws and fittings. I
loaded them onto my bike a headed to the scrap metal yard dreaming of
my riches to come. After an hour and a half of pedalling an unsteady,
overloaded bike on a hot summers day I stared at the dime I had
earned for my labours. I didn't even offer to share the pop I bought
with that dime with my grandfather.
As
I grew older the schemes were just as colourful and just as fruitful.
Plastic lines for ice hockey rinks foundered, as did my checker game
made with white and black, natural stones. Games gave way to toys, as
I was sure that everyone else in the world enjoyed toys as much as I
did.
The
"Water Weenie" was a toy for summer. Made of latex tubing I
was able to fill up a tube with up to 20 litres of water and
discharge it a distance of forty feet. I was certain that such a
simple novel toy would guarantee my fortune.....at least until the
tubing split and totally soaked the user instead of the intended
victim. The dryer manufacturer and the electricity company benefited
more from that than did I.
Rationalising
that my efforts were too commercial, I endeavoured to go the artistic
route to wealth and fame. A stint as an painter showed that I had a
terrible lack of patience as well as less than true eye for my
subject. To overcome the patience deficit I became a photographer.
The coffee table books gave me a wonderful wealth of ideas but the
developer gave me back only regular pictures and a hefty bill. The
idea of doing photo work for real estate catalogues that grew from
that died as quickly as the car I needed to get me to various
locations.
Another
area that opened itself to my efforts was sculpting by hammering a
design into a copper plate. When the hammering caused headaches and
complaints from my family I let the idea go. Not to be discouraged I
hatched a scheme to build barbed wire birds nest with stone eggs in
them. After constructing 25 of them I was pleased with the result but
pained by the number of cuts and the cost of Band-Aids I required to
continue my scheme I quit.
The
latest effort at creating my fortune involved creating six inch
Christmas Trees replete with decorations. They look wonderful with
tiny balls and minuscule tinsel, standing in their plaster pots. As
the enthusiasm wanes once more I am beginning to wonder what I'm
going to do with fifty trees, a sink full of quickly hardening
plaster and absolutely no market for my wares. How did I get here
again?
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