The 8-year-old boy offered to help the old man in his garden. The old widower wore a chewed up Red Man hat, and jeans with mud stains on the knees.

The boy asked the random, nonsensical questions of boyhood:

If the world is spinning, why can’t we feel it, Grandpa? Why does time feel slow when I’m bored, but fast when I’m having fun?

The old man answered every persistent question with patience. Then, the conversation took a turn toward the philosophical. It is a well-known fact that 8-year-olds are philosophers.

“What’s humble mean?” the boy asked.

“Humble?” the old man replied. “Why do you ask?”

The boy shrugged. “There is a picture in your bathroom that says ‘Be it ever so humble.’”

“Oh, that.”

“It hangs over the toilet.”

“I know.”

“I can see the picture really good whenever I’m peeing.”

Grandpa laughed. “Yes. Your grandmother embroidered those words before she died.”

The boy began digging with a small handshovel. The kid’s hands were soon covered with soil. His fingernails, black.

“Humble,” the old man said, lost in thought. “Sorta hard to explain…”

The boy waited.

“Well, just look at the trees, the trees are humble.”

The boy wrinkled his face. “The trees?”

“A tree is not loud. Not boastful. Not showy, or self-important. He’s not trying to be something he’s not. A tree never judges anyone.”

The kid was silent.

“Same way with birds,” the man added. “Birds aren’t interested in being right. They don’t share our human need to win.”

The child continued to dig. His little hole was growing too deep to serve any true gardening purposes.

“And yet,” the man said, “birds have every reason to be proud. Birds can fly, they can even navigate using Earth’s magnetic fields.”

“What’s magnetic fields?”

“Something a bird uses to travel thousands of miles by memory. Did you know that some birds can fly 180 miles per hour? Did you know that other birds have 360-degree vision? Some birds can detect smells from distances 8 miles away.”

“Do you like my hole, Grandpa?”

The old man smiled. “But birds are humble. Just like everything else in nature. All of nature is humble.”

“Are people humble?”

“Not many of them, no.”

“Why not?”

“Well, I think a lot of people are scared. I used to be scared of it myself.”

“YOU?”

“Yep, I thought humility was a weakness. We men are taught to be proud; even though being proud makes you miserable. But look at nature, what do you see? Do you see all the trees surrounding us? Don’t they look so happy?”

“I guess.”

“You GUESS? They’re so happy they can’t help but sprout leaves and branches. Have you ever been so happy you sprouted leaves?”

“I had chicken pox one time.”

“And look at the flowers. Don’t they look overjoyed?”

“I can’t tell.”

“They’re so happy they can’t help but spontaneously pollinate with the wind. And look at the birds, don’t they look cheerful?”

The boy dusted the dirt clods from his hands. “They just look regular to me.”

“The birds are so happy they sing out loud. When was the last time you were so happy you sang out loud?

“Brigitte Donaldson’s birthday party.”

“Do you know why the birds are singing?”

The boy shook his head.

“They sing because they aren’t worried about tomorrow, or about what they will eat or drink. They know they’re taken care of.”

The little boy looked at the old man, who was now gazing into the treetops.

“All of nature is happy,” the man said. “Trees, flowers, birds. Because they know.”

“What do they know?”

“They have all they could ever want, simply because they want only what they have.”

The old man went back to digging and planting. “And well,” he said, “that’s humility.”

The little boy was quiet. Finally, the kid said, “Where did you learn all this stuff?”

He smiled and dabbed the corner of his eye. “From the same person who embroidered that picture,” said my grandfather.