I’ve recently puzzled together a mystery from last year. Let me set the scene for you. My mother and I, leaving a store, passed a couple of veterans in uniform with a collection plate. As in other years the week before this holiday, they were handing out those little red flowers.
My mother gave them a donation, and began conversing with the elderly gentlemen. Following her, I too dropped some coin. However, I found the two men rather surety when I asked for a flower, receiving an accusatory and quiet stare. Personality tests say I’m a bit neurotic, so maybe they weren’t looking at me with all the harshness I perceived. I didn’t press the matter.
Fast forward a bit. Inside the store this year, the veterans at their table collected donations. However, my mother had no cash. This was a small obstacle; my wallet was at hand, and then it was in her hand. After going through the checkout, we made our way over, delivering the donation unto our nation’s veterans.
And wouldn’t you know it, this year I got my flower. This took me a little by surprise as I hadn’t made a donation, or at least from their prospective my mother was the only one of us who made a donation. My reasoning was, you make a donation and get a flower. That’s when it hit me: the veterans from the year prior, did they see me make a donation?
They were conversing with my mom, and as gentlemen, gave to her their attention. My guess, they never saw me make a donation, and reasonably thought it odd I’d try to take a flower. Anyhow, there’s one less thing to wake up at night and ponder.
Tale Told 