Once upon a time, crabs were considered “trash” fish. Yes, it’s true. Don’t let the current $200+ bushel price fool you. They used to be given away free at local bars in Baltimore, provided you were drinking beer.
I remember as a kid that my dad would take me along when buying crabs. It was less to spend time with me, but more about the guy counting out the crabs would throw some extra in for the cute red-headed son.
The number of blue crabs in the Chesapeake is unstable at best, downward at worst.
The cost of crabs has done nothing but go up, up, up. And there is no end in sight
Bob Dylan(1) was right, “for the times they are a changing.”
The availability and cost of hope have followed a similar pattern. Hope has become a precious commodity, it’s becoming harder and harder to find. And when you find it, it seems like it’s not as powerful and fulfilling as it once was.
While there is no direct cost to purchase hope, people are willing to go to more extreme lengths to find hope. They are replacing real hope with a synthetic hope, a make-believe hope, that’s costly but not satisfying like the good old hope of yesteryear.
To what ends are you willing to go to find some genuine hope? What would you be willing to pay, give up, or sacrifice to regain the hope you once had?
Tomorrow – there is yet a fourth way that hope is just like steamed crabs.