The Discarded Pencil

JAMESVILLE, New York — On occasion, while taking a walk to the middle school, I notice a pencil lying on the sidewalk or in the grass. Sometimes it is nearly new, its eraser still untouched. Other times it has been worn down from use, weathered by rain and sun, waiting for no one. Most people walk past without giving it a second thought. I rarely do.

Sketch by HonGo David Robertson

Every discarded pencil makes me wonder about wasted potential.

A pencil is one of the simplest tools ever created. It contains no batteries, no software, no moving parts. Yet within that small cylinder of wood and graphite lies the ability to solve a mathematical equation, sketch the first plans for a bridge, compose a poem, write a love letter, or record an idea that changes someone's life. Every great novel, scientific breakthrough, architectural drawing, or classroom lesson began somewhere with a simple mark made by a pencil.

When I see one abandoned on the ground, I don't just see litter. I see unfinished possibilities.

Perhaps it belonged to a student rushing home after school. Maybe it slipped unnoticed from a backpack or jacket pocket. The owner may have been relieved to discover another pencil waiting in a desk or borrowed from a classmate. After all, pencils are inexpensive and easily replaced.

But the pencil itself reminds me of something larger.

Potential is often discarded just as casually. We set aside talents because they require work. We abandon ideas because they seem too difficult. We leave projects unfinished when excitement gives way to discipline. Like the forgotten pencil on the sidewalk, our abilities sometimes remain unused—not because they lack value, but because we fail to recognize what they could become.

Sketch by HonGo David Robertson

The pencil has no choice in its fate. It cannot pick itself up. It cannot return to the classroom where it once belonged. It simply waits until someone notices it, or until weather slowly reduces it to nothing.

People, fortunately, are different.

We always have the opportunity to pick up the figurative pencil again. It may have been years since we painted, wrote, played an instrument, built something with our hands, or pursued the curiosity that once defined us. The opportunity remains. The potential has not disappeared simply because it has been neglected.

Perhaps that is why I never look at a discarded pencil without feeling a quiet sense of sadness. It represents more than a lost school supply. It represents all the unwritten stories, unsolved problems, unrealized inventions, and unseen works of art that never came to be because someone stopped before they began, or gave up before they finished.

The next time I pass a pencil lying on the sidewalk, I will probably pause once again. Most people will see a broken writing instrument worth only a few cents. I will see a reminder that the greatest waste is never the pencil itself. The greatest waste is the potential it symbolizes—the ideas that were never written, the dreams left unexplored, and the gifts each of us carries if only we choose to pick them up and begin.

Donevan's Hardware: A Living Piece of Canadian History

GANANOQUE, Ontario — Sometimes the best stories begin with a conversation on the sidewalk.

While standing on King Street taking in the downtown, a man pulled up on his bicycle, leaned it against a parking meter and asked, "Do you know what you're standing in front of?"

When told no, he smiled.

"That's the oldest continuously operating hardware store in all of Canada."

The building behind him was Donevan's Hardware, a family-owned business that has served the Gananoque community since 1872. More than 150 years later, the store remains much as generations of customers have remembered it, with worn wooden floors, shelves stacked high with hardware and the unmistakable feel of a traditional neighborhood hardware store.

Photo Credit: HonGo David Robertson

Inside, visitors are greeted by Mary Donevan, the great-granddaughter of James Donevan, who purchased the business in 1872. While helping operate the family store, Mary has also established herself as an artist.

Throughout the store, her mosaics hang among the tools, antiques and hardware. Each piece is created from broken teacups and china collected over the years or donated by friends and customers. Rather than discarding damaged porcelain, she transforms it into colorful artwork, giving each fragment a second life.

The artwork blends naturally into the character of the store, reinforcing the idea that craftsmanship takes many forms.

Sitting behind the counter was Gordon McFarlane. At first glance, it would be easy to assume he owns the business. He greets customers with the familiarity of someone who has spent years there and speaks easily about the store's history.

McFarlane explained how the Donevan family has guided the business through six generations while adapting to changing times without losing the qualities that have made it a fixture in downtown Gananoque.

Photo Credit: HonGo David Robertson

Never getting past the counter area, one could not but feel that tools, plumbing supplies and bins of fasteners peppered the store along with antiques, locally made gifts, handcrafted items and Mary's mosaics. The result is part hardware store, part gallery and part museum, reflecting both the history of the business and the community it has served for more than a century.

Donevan's Hardware is also closely associated with Charlie Donevan, who spent more than 70 years working in the family business and became one of Gananoque's most recognizable residents before his death in 2024 at age 99. His legacy remains evident throughout the store, where longtime customers still share stories of stopping in simply to visit with him.

Independent hardware stores like Donevan's have become increasingly rare. Large retail chains have replaced many neighborhood businesses that once served as gathering places as much as retail stores.

Donevan's continues to offer something that cannot be duplicated by a big-box retailer: personal knowledge, family history and a sense of community built over generations.

Sometimes it takes nothing more than a stranger on a bicycle to point visitors toward a place where history is still being made one customer at a time.