Public outreach is so important to us all: afterall, todays' children are tomorrows architects of the future.
Public outreach is so important to us all: afterall, todays' children are tomorrows architects of the future.
Public outreach is so important to us all: afterall, todays' children are tomorrows architects of the future. by Owen Phairis aka Professor Fantastic

This is going to become the HPA Mantra going forward, with full quote credit to Prof. Fantastic. It hit home that the future is in giving, not hoarding, in a recent incident I have captured with the following true story from 2 weeks ago!

I was squirming in Church two Sundays ago. The topic was money .. giving .. and I knew I had issues. Who doesn't? Alot of people don't. But apparently far more do. Like me. The pastor, an eloquent imposing man over 6 foot 4 in height, had implored the congregation that by giving you received more than you could imagine. A special envelope was included in the program. Now I give a 25 dollar check each and every Sunday. I recently completed a 2 year pledge to help build several new campus childrens centers. That was expected. But this was beyond. I fidgeted... finally with a supreme shrug, not believing a word of it, I forced myself to remove my wallet, take out my last bill, a 10, and put it in the envelope. I just made the plate as it went round. I left church vaguely thinking maybe I should be more cynical.

Two days later Im working at my Sprint Store. Over 5 years I cannot but help size customers up - form judgements that are sometimes spot on, sometimes grossly mistaken or unfair. I do not let this affect my job performance, but its a human thing I tell myself. In hobbled a little old man - with an oxygen tank.. he slowly plodded towards me and I saw that I needed to help him. No hiding in the backroom, no putting him on the list and hoping someone else would get him. I had him. He literally had to gather breath before he could speak .. he needed another phone activated, his ancient cellphone wouldnt work anymore, almost like his body I couldnt help thinking .. as I put onto his line his equally ancient spare phone, he smiled at me .. a crooked smile. I told him about new phones, I couldnt be sure he heard me. But as he slowly began to leave, he held out an almost clawlike, limp hand to shake mine. I forced myself to shake it, and helped him to the door. And resumed trying to make money, my way..

After he had left I returned to my station, and before I could wait on the next customer, I noticed something crumpled up beside my keyboard. It was a ball of paper, or something.... Picking it up, I unwrapped it..

It was a 10 dollar bill.

Had the old man tipped me? Tips were unheard of in my line of work. No I came to realize .. the 10 I had given came back to me.. in a way not only proving the point, but in a way I would examine my preconceived notions about alot of others things too. And alot of other people.

I put the 10 back in the plate last Sunday. Without a single regret. g