Reader's Digest June/July 2025

READER’S DIGEST Do you have a tale to tell? We’ll pay cash for any original and unpublished story we print. See page 6 for details on how to contribute. found the best places to publish their work and the best editors to work with. I was as astonished by their revelations as with their magnanimity in sharing the fruits of their labour with other writers. But I did not heed their advice. But when an editor surprised me with a lower rate of pay for a piece they chose to publish online rather than in print, as was originally proposed, I was shocked … and hurt! But like my father, I saw the bright side – so many people read the piece and loved it, sharing joyful emoticons and praise on social media. It did wonders for my confidence. Maybe I was short-changed, but I felt rewarded, too. Many decades ago, I remember Appa reading aloud to me from a magazine, or challenging me to a Reader’s Digest’s Word Power quiz. I remember the way his face would light up as he discovered a new turn of a phrase, or at the sound of a word. If my attention waned, he would say, “Feeling drowsy? Never mind, I’ll keep reading. Some of the words may stay in your mind. Okay? By introducing me to the power of words, Appa guided my life’s calling, a purpose I never questioned or bothered to navigate cleverly – it was only our shared passion that mattered. But while I was content for many years, a certain anxiety would at times creep in. Was it because everyone around me seemed to be sharing greater triumphs and earnings than mine? Would ambition or competition cheapen the dignity of my work? I know what my father’s solution would have been. “Why not both? Money isn’t everything, but isn’t it good to have enough to help yourself and those close to you? For your talents and efforts to be valued?” Appa lived his life quietly helping people, never forgetting those who had lent him a hand. He believed that more wealth did not mean greater happiness, but also that no effort should be undervalued. Today, when doubts cloud my mind, I think of Appa’s sharpened pencil: its purpose may have been to solve a crossword, but it was also there for anyone who desperately needed it to, say, jot down a life- changing number. You see, a crossword is complete – and gives one joy – with only so many words, and only when each word rests on elements from the others. Couldn’t my words hold a duality that completes my purpose too? And so, now I take up assignments, some that pay well, some that don’t, but together, and most importantly, they fill me with joy. 10 June/July 2025