Willie Stylez’s posterous

A wealthy man and his son loved to collect rare works of art. They had everything in their collection, from Picasso to Raphael. They would often sit together and admire the great works of art.. 

When the Vietnam conflict broke out, the son went to war. He was very courageous and died in battle while rescuing another soldier. The father was notified and grieved deeply for his only son 

About a month later, just before Christmas, there was a knock at the door. A young man stood at the door with a large package in his hands. 

He said, 'Sir, you don't know me, but I am the soldier for whom your son gave his life. He saved many lives that day, and he was carrying me to safety when a bullet struck him in the heart and he died instantly... He often talked about you, and your love for art.'

The father Opened the package. It was a portrait of his son, painted by the young man. He stared in awe at the way the soldier had captured the personality of his son in the painting The father was so drawn to the eyes that his own eyes welled up with tears.

The father hung the portrait over his mantle. Every time visitors came to his home he took them to see the portrait of his son before he showed them any of the other great works he had collected. 

The man died a few months later. There was to be a great auction of his paintings. Many influential people gathered, excited over seeing the great paintings and having an opportunity to purchase one for their collection. 

On the platform sat the painting of the son. The auctioneer pounded his gavel. 'We will start the bidding with this picture of the son. Who will bid for this picture?' 

But the auctioneer persisted. 'Will somebody= bid for this painting? Who will start the bidding? $100, $200?' 

Another voice angrily. 'We didn't come to see this painting. We came to see the Van Gogh's, the Rembrandts. Get on with the   Real bids!' 

But still the auctioneer continued. 'The son! The son! Who'll take the son?' 

Finally, a voice came from the very back of the room. It was the longtime gardener of the man and his son. 'I'll give $10 for the painting...' Being a poor man, it was all he could afford. 

Give it to him for $10. Let's see the masters.'  The crowd was becoming angry. They didn't want the picture of the son. 

A man sitting on the second row shouted, 'Now let's get on with the collection!' 

The auctioneer laid down his gavel. 'I'm sorry, the auction is over.' 

I am sorry. When I was called to conduct this auction, I was told of a secret stipulation in the will. I was not allowed to reveal that stipulation until this time.