On Icing and the Fate of Humanity

          Of all the noble goals that one can strive to achieve, I believe that education and the enhancement of creativity are among the noblest. It is for this reason that I volunteer two hours each week at the Art Museum of Southeast Texas (www.amset.org), whose stated goal is to “provide education, inspiration and creative vision throughout Southeast Texas” through “unique collections, exhibitions, public programs and outreach in the visual arts”. In particular, I volunteer for the Art After School program, which seeks to achieve this goal with an after-school program and creative projects for children.

            My first time volunteering at the museum certainly did not initially feel like I was helping to achieve a noble goal. In preparation for upcoming Day of the Dead celebrations that the children would participate in, I and the other volunteers were set working to make icing (<---super informative how-to link) to decorate sugar skulls (<---super informative how-to link).

            I had been hoping to work with the children to benefit mankind and had envisioned myself pushing the cart of humanity up a steep hill towards the goal of an educated, free, democratic, liberal, creative, accepting, and all-around amazing society, and I now found myself sitting in a cramped kitchen, listening to the incessant and obnoxiously loud cranking of the ancient mixer creating loads of icing.

            In this time of darkness, I consoled myself with the thought that the icing would be delicious, and that I might at least sample this delectable delicacy.

            Alas, I was mistaken. It was disgusting (not like that icing recipe up there. This stuff was really nasty).

            This horrific finding was the final blow towards driving me into the pit of despair, a realm of infinite frustration. All hope had been lost; I wasn’t accomplishing anything useful for humanity, and I couldn’t eat a sweet treat.

            But then, like the sudden break in the clouds during a hurricane or the miraculous appearance of a lighthouse to a sailor that had given up all hope of remaining alive on the tempestuous seas, an beatific image appeared to me. In this angelic vision, a gang of happy fourth graders sat with their sugar skulls, merrily piping onto them the icing that I was helping to prepare. And in that moment, I realized that while I may not be pushing that cart, I was at least helping to grease the axles. After all, the end goal of the Art After School program wasn't to fulfill my desire to do something great or puff my ego up even more; it was to let those kids, many of whom came from impoverished and non-optimal home environments, have a good time and learn.

            The actual importance of my meager two hours of icing-making, when compared to the dozens of gallons produced by other herculean volunteers whose stories are told to this very day, is questionable, to say the least. But I still felt that I had learned a valuable lesson: not all turns of the wheel towards that dream of a utopia world becoming reality were that impressive. My time at the museum has been spent not doing momentous tasks, but assisting underprivileged fourth graders in their artistic endeavors, and that is perfectly okay with me.

            And at the end of the day, my voracious stomach was satisfied and my appetite sated with the consumption of a sour cream and cheddar Pringles canister provided to us by the museum, in thanks for our heroic sacrifice of two hours. Despite the lack of delicious icing, everything turned out acceptably.