Where are you standing there?

It's funny how each generation measures the next generation based on their perception of the world at the time when their brain became mature enough to perceive the world around them. For me, the late seventies and eighties were those days when I became of age and started observing the tiny portion of the world I could see or wanted to see. Projecting my view of the world from the 70's and 80's onto today's youth, is as futile as my mom and dad telling me I needed to conduct myself as they did in the 40's, 50's, and 60's. One thing I've learned is that everything around me, including myself, is in a perpetual state of change. Absolute movement! Our planet is spinning at about 25,000 MPH on it's axis and  zipping around the sun at about 18 mile per second. Weeeeeeeeee. If that's tough to grasp then try all this: the air in your house, your plants, seasons, fashions, political philosophies, economies, clouds, fuel prices, technology, wear/tear on your vehicle(s), age of your house, roof, comets, tax laws, traffic lights, your hair color, finger nails, temperature, moods, your children, your parents, your spouse, your career, your pets, and the price of tea in China. Yes, the whole world is seemingly spinning out of control. And yet, with the arrogance of the aristocracy many plod through life hopelessly leaning against father time in a useless attempt to slow down the second hand and freeze time if only for a short while. What's up with that!? Why not embrace it and hang on and enjoy the ride. It's just a cold scientific fact that there will always be the petty people pouting pitifully and the alpha types clamoring to the "front" of life or just trying to be "right." Let 'em pout and let 'em beat their chest. One day, when they've left their frozen moments, let them escape their self created boxes and join the ebb and flow. For me, my way is to stand tall and face the wind, and with dignity and respect lend a hand up to those being tossed about by it all.          

The scene heard 'round the country

She leaned against her beat up Plymouth that was parked next to the shopping cart return, as her cigarette flipped up and down between her lips, as she yelled into and at her cell phone. "JIMMY, I told you I just cain't take another Christmas like last year!" She threw her head back and blew smoke into the air while simultaneously holding her arm straight out from her side holding the smoldering tobacco stick. Although I still had to step in Wal-Mart for a few items, my brief exposure to this scene quickly satisfied my daily drama quota. It's a scene that's become all too familiar during the annual month long  ingestion of commercial fare for others that's referred to as Christmas. What began as a long slow journey for the wise men to present gifts to the King of Kings, has devolved into a month long me first mercantile mosh pit culminating with a day after purging back at the trough of consumption on "return day."  As I approached the store doors, I heard her continue, "I just ain't got no money to buy nuthin' for nobody!" Did poor decisions put her there or has she found tall walls at every turn? I wondered, her words bounced around in my head like change in a dryer for several yule tide days.

Expectations kill, and this woman sensed the looming longing of her loved ones on Christmas morn' and she cringed from the pings of pain presented by what would surely be perceived as a lack of presents. Regrettably, this woman, like all of us, has something to give that's far superior than an end cap item at a store. Her time, her care, her touch, and her sincerity. The price paid to create a thoughtful hand made gift or baked goodie with love seems to be far too costly than many are willing to pay. It's far less risky to simply exchange some spending units for another item that will ultimately end up at the landfill.


Something to ponder upon.