Introduction
In the dry, small town of Redrock, people thought wisdom was something that came with years and battle scars. Old Jeremiah was living proof. He had ridden cattle trails, battled bandits, and survived two hard winters when the river went solid. People tended to visit him for counsel, and he doled it out freely, even though he knew that most wouldn’t pay attention.
The Foolish Farmhand
One hot summer afternoon, he took on a young farmhand named Billy, wide-eyed but dumb as a mule. Jeremiah attempted to show him the ropes of the land—to repair a fence, how to handle a horse, how to control your temper in a saloon. Billy nodded, but the following day he’d have forgotten it all, doing the same thing over again.
The Burdened Neighbor
At the same time, Jeremiah’s neighbour, Tom, was wedded to a woman who thought more about whiskey and scandal than about her own house. Tom worked day and night just to put food on the table, while she wasted it. All could see the torment on Tom’s face.
The Sorrowful Widow
And Martha, the creek-side widow. She always wore sorrow as a cloud. People who sat with her too long tended to become overcome by her misery, regardless of how resilient they were.
A Campfire Truth
One night, around a fire and a jug of rye, Jeremiah let out a deep breath and asked the sheriff:
“School a fool all you want, dine a sinful woman all you can, and linger too long with the grieving—you’ll discover even the wisest man gets tired. If that’s the lot of men like us, what hope have the rest of these miserable ones got?”
The sheriff laughed, prodded at the fire, and responded,
“Guess wisdom don’t always keep a man from misery, Jeremiah. Sometimes it just makes him see it clearer.”
And the flames crackled on, as if they were laughing at the heaviness of truth in those words.
