Ordinary Sins by Jim Heynen Page A

until his death at age eighty-five or eighty-six. He inherited Aristotle’s books (which were stored underground and damaged) and may have had as many as two thousand students. He was a learned man and prolific writer, whose works covered a wide expanse of human knowledge, both in science and philosophy. His several-volume work, On the Causes of Plants , for example, prompted some to label him the “father of botany.” I like the fact that his study of plants made him one of Western history’searliest vegetarians, believing, as he did, that animals have feelings like human beings.
    Theophrastus’s given name was Tyrtamus but Aristotle nicknamed him Theophrastus (god/to phrase)—that is, “divine expression”—to acknowledge his graceful way of speaking. Reportedly, he was a fine and witty lecturer, and some scholars speculate that his character portrayals from fourth-century BC Greek society were models for orators.
    Was the audience laughing in response to the recitation of Theophrastus’ Characters ? Blushing? Insulted? Whatever the answers, I never sense real malice in Theophrastus. I hope the same is true in this collection. In fact, I’d like to think that Theophrastus was gently mocking himself in some of his portrayals. I certainly am in many of the stories in Ordinary Sins , several of which are thinly disguised self-portraits. You are welcome to find Waldo, if you can.
    JIM HEYNEN
    Note: There is now a six-hundred-page work devoted to these fourth-century BC short-shorts: Theophrastus Characters , edited, commentary, translation and introduction by James Diggle (Cambridge Classical Texts and Commentaries 43, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004). Diggle suggests that the title, Characters , is misleading, and could more accurately be Behavioral Types or Distinctive Marks of Character . My quotations are from Diggle’s book.

ORDINARY SINS

WHO JINGLED HIS CHANGE
    This man jingled the change in his pockets.
    It was not as if he were generally a fidgeter. He was not running for political office and afraid that his past would be revealed. It was not as if he were being audited by the IRS. He hadn’t just quit smoking. He didn’t have a bleeding ulcer or a bad stock portfolio. He had not forgotten to renew his driver’s license, or homeowners’ insurance, or health insurance, or life insurance, or disability insurance, or car insurance.

    Outward appearances said this man had a secure and balanced life. He was ahead in his mortgage payments, just had his teeth cleaned, his lawn fence was in good repair, basement cleaned up, laundry folded, garbage taken out, pets vaccinated, warranties on appliances in order, shingles on his house patched up after the storm, recycling set out on the street the night before the recycling truck would come by, birthdays of his friends and family circled on the calendar, flu shot gotten two weeks before the seasonal outbreak, shoes polished, light bulb in the closet replaced, windshield repaired, oil changed, radiator flushed before winter, crabgrass gotten out of his lawn, tulips planted before the big frost, photographs for the year put safely into an album, workouts at the gym strictly adhered to, thank-you notes sent to the last three dinner hosts, all disagreements with in-laws put to rest, fresh batteries in all the flashlights, toenails clipped and the clippings placed in the wastebasket—and these were just the beginning of what this man had right in his life.
    And still he jingled his change, constantly, just jingled and jingled, not even in a comforting rhythm, erratic but constant jingling of change.

THE HOARDER
    And for years people thought she was simply a collector!
    That was before they started counting: 550 coffee cups, some in cupboards, some on tables, some on bookshelves, and some dangling on hooks. Bathrobes might be a great comfort on a chilly morning, but twenty-three of them? Eighteen ice cream