Pipe_Dream
God
A wealthy man and his son loved to collect rare works of art. They had everything in their collection, from Picasso to Raphael. They would often sit together and admire the great works. When the Viet Nam conflict broke out, the son went to war. He was very courageous and died in battle while rescuing another soldier. The father was notified and he grieved deeply for his only son.
About a month later, just before Christmas, there was a knock at the door. A young man stood with a large package in his hands. He said, “Sir, you don’t know me, but I am the soldier for whom your son gave his life. He saved many lives, and he was carrying me to safety when a bullet struck him in the heart and he died instantly. He often talked about you and your love for art.”
The young man held out the package. “I know this isn’t much. I’m not a great artist.” The father opened the package. It was a portrait of his son, painted by the young man. The father stared in awe at the painting, and his eyes welled up with tears. He thanked the young man and offered to pay him, but the young man said, “Oh, no sir, I could never repay what you son did for me. It is a gift.”
The father hung the portrait above his mantle. When visitors came he took them to see the portrait of his son before he showed them any of the other great works he had collected.
When the man died, there was to be a great auction of his paintings. Many wealthy and influential people gathered, excited over seeing the great paintings and having an opportunity to purchase one for their collection. On the platform sat the painting of the son. The auctioneer pounded his gavel.
“We will start the bidding with this portrait of the son. Who will start the bidding?” There was silence. Then a voice in the crowd shouted, “We want to see the valuable paintings! Skip this one!” But the auctioneer persisted, “Will someone bid for this painting? Who will start? $100, $200?” Another voice shouted angrily, “We didn’t come to see this! We came to see the Van Goghs, and the Rembrandts. Get on with the real auction!” But still the auctioneer continued, “The son! The son! Who’ll take the son?”
A voice spoke up from the back of the room. It was the longtime gardener of the wealthy man and his son. “I’ll give $10 for the portrait.” Being a poor man it was all he could afford. “We have $10, who will bid $20?” The crowd grumbled, “Give it to him. Get it out of the way so we can see the masters.” The auctioneer said, “$10 is the bid, won’t someone bid $20?” The crowd became angry and insisted the auctioneer accept the $10 bid and get on with the auction. The auctioneer pounded the gavel.
“Going once! Going twice! SOLD FOR TEN DOLLARS!” “GOOD!” shouted a man in the first row, “Now let’s get on with the collection!” The auctioneer laid down his gavel and said, “The auction is over.” “What about the great paintings?” the crowd cried. “The auction is over,” repeated the auctioneer. “When I was called upon to conduct this auction, I was told of a stipulation in the will, which I was not to reveal until this time. Only the portrait of the son was to be auctioned. Whoever bought that painting would also be given the entire estate, including all the paintings. The winning bidder gets everything!”
About a month later, just before Christmas, there was a knock at the door. A young man stood with a large package in his hands. He said, “Sir, you don’t know me, but I am the soldier for whom your son gave his life. He saved many lives, and he was carrying me to safety when a bullet struck him in the heart and he died instantly. He often talked about you and your love for art.”
The young man held out the package. “I know this isn’t much. I’m not a great artist.” The father opened the package. It was a portrait of his son, painted by the young man. The father stared in awe at the painting, and his eyes welled up with tears. He thanked the young man and offered to pay him, but the young man said, “Oh, no sir, I could never repay what you son did for me. It is a gift.”
The father hung the portrait above his mantle. When visitors came he took them to see the portrait of his son before he showed them any of the other great works he had collected.
When the man died, there was to be a great auction of his paintings. Many wealthy and influential people gathered, excited over seeing the great paintings and having an opportunity to purchase one for their collection. On the platform sat the painting of the son. The auctioneer pounded his gavel.
“We will start the bidding with this portrait of the son. Who will start the bidding?” There was silence. Then a voice in the crowd shouted, “We want to see the valuable paintings! Skip this one!” But the auctioneer persisted, “Will someone bid for this painting? Who will start? $100, $200?” Another voice shouted angrily, “We didn’t come to see this! We came to see the Van Goghs, and the Rembrandts. Get on with the real auction!” But still the auctioneer continued, “The son! The son! Who’ll take the son?”
A voice spoke up from the back of the room. It was the longtime gardener of the wealthy man and his son. “I’ll give $10 for the portrait.” Being a poor man it was all he could afford. “We have $10, who will bid $20?” The crowd grumbled, “Give it to him. Get it out of the way so we can see the masters.” The auctioneer said, “$10 is the bid, won’t someone bid $20?” The crowd became angry and insisted the auctioneer accept the $10 bid and get on with the auction. The auctioneer pounded the gavel.
“Going once! Going twice! SOLD FOR TEN DOLLARS!” “GOOD!” shouted a man in the first row, “Now let’s get on with the collection!” The auctioneer laid down his gavel and said, “The auction is over.” “What about the great paintings?” the crowd cried. “The auction is over,” repeated the auctioneer. “When I was called upon to conduct this auction, I was told of a stipulation in the will, which I was not to reveal until this time. Only the portrait of the son was to be auctioned. Whoever bought that painting would also be given the entire estate, including all the paintings. The winning bidder gets everything!”
