People often ask me, “Sanuk D, why do you give so much?” Just the other day, as I handed a hobo two bits, the look in his rheumy eye said, “my, you are a generous fellow” although it must have been the untreated delusions which led him to curse me so violently. I try to remember that people abuse me only because they don’t know better.
Yet, still, I give. Not just the money which would otherwise go in that artisan crafted dish in the drawer of my nightstand but also gently used clothing, canned peas, and appreciated securities of closely held corporations. The most valuable gift I give, of course, is my time. This I give despite the cost in late video rental fees, melted ice cream, and missed birthday parties.
Obviously this can, at times, cause pain to those around me as well as the significant expense of removing Cherry Garcia from the carpets of a fully restored 1977 Porsche 911. The important thing to remember is that the person to whom you have given your time will think you are a really swell guy. Unless, of course, they are especially needy and turn into a huge time suck right when you are trying to catch up on Glee. Then cut them out of your life like cancer.