The True Meaning of Cash Flow, in a Convoluted Manner

We got a refund check from the College of Genius on Friday. One of his scholarships had to be renewed at semester, which he forgot about, since it had not been mentioned since last spring when he applied for it. He was mysteriously awarded a new scholarship in January, for the same amount, so we were not out any hard-earned cash. I had interrogated Backroads school personnel in an effort to track down a contact person and address so Genius could communicate with this organization in February, when he realized his error of omission. Luckily Genius found the info in his records, because nobody at school knew nothin' 'bout no scholarship, other than the new liaison (name unknown) would be there sometime between February and May to pick up this year's applications. Genius called and left messages, and sent the packet of grades and documentation. He never heard back, so we figured he has out of luck, and had learned a valuable life lesson. On March 31st, the scholarship money showed up in his student account.

That check was a pleasant surprise. It also meant that I had to leave my dark basement lair on Saturday to drive it to our place of savings and deposit it in one of Genius's college accounts. My mom had let The Pony sleep over, and was going to drop him off at bowling league at noon. That meant she couldn't accompany me on this trip. I called to see if she wanted anything. She said no. I guess now that her driveway is passable, my Meals on T-Hoe's Wheels program is no longer needed.

Still, I took Mom some leftover fried rice, sweet & sour sauce, crispy sweet things that are free and nobody here likes them, and a box of Fiddle Faddle I bought in Save A Lot. Oh, and I brought her a fish sandwich because they were two for five dollars at Arby's. I did not expect her to give me anything in return. But you know my mom. She's such a giver!

Mom came out to the driveway to grab her stuff. We were both rushed for time. In her hand, she held a folded-up bill of indeterminate currency. She waved it around. "I know I owe you more than this...and I'll get it to you sometime. But I read in the paper about those teachers at your school hosting The Extraordinary Dance, and I wondered, if I give this to you, can you give it to them for a donation? I think it's great that they're doing something like that, and I saw how they're having more expenses this year, and I wanted to give them something."

"Sure. I'll give it to them. I have lunch with one every day."

Mom handed me a five-dollar bill. To her, this means a lot. She's from another era. From a time when she threw her shoe out of the car window, and had to go around with one shoe until her lead-mining father could afford another one with credit at the company store. It really comes from the heart.

This morning, when The Pony and I went on our weekly grocery-shopping trip, I saw the folded up five in the back hidey-hole area of my purse. "Oh, tomorrow morning, don't let me forget to take in this donation grandma gave me for The Extraordinary Dance."

"Okay. Just what is that, anyway? The prom?"

"No. It's like that, but a month later. And it's for the extraordinary kids. The ones who go to extraordinary class. Who have learning issues. This might be the best night of their high school lives. We've hosted it for years, and invite other schools to bring their students. They love it. They look forward to it. There are so many this year that the sponsors are getting the word out that they need donations. One of our teachers has agreed to make all the food. Grandma gave me five dollars to give them."

"FIVE dollars? Only FIVE dollars? That's nothing!"

"Grandma thinks it is. She's from a time when five dollars could get a lot. And she really wants them to have it. I'm going to explain to them how much it means to her. I'm sure they will be thrilled to get it."

"Can I give them some money?"

"Sure. I can give it to them for you."

"Okay. I have plenty. I want to give twenty dollars. If, for nothing else, to show up Grandma!"

"Well, that's very nice of you to donate. But we're not telling Grandma how much."

"That's fine. I want to donate to them."

You never know what The Pony is kicking around in his head. He appears to have inherited his grandma's giver gene.