My blog has become a weekly venture instead of it's intended daily venture. I try and bring some thought, some heart, and some intelligence into it, but not all three want to participate on a daily basis.
The other day, driving to the bank and driving home from work, I noticed many things. Some of these things are evident every day, if one just opens their eyes. Some are harder to see. None of these are revelations, so if you thought you'd be knocked off your feet, you'll have to wait for the 40 bus and stand a little to close to the sidewalk.
I feel I do more for others than others do for me. I'm not talking about people I know. I mean strangers. I hold doors, say thank you, offer to help people with bags, etc. I wave people ahead when two cars approach an intersection at the same time. I let people know when traffic is bad if I overhear or let them know the updated forecast if I hear people discussing some weather related activity. It's not a big deal, but I'd like to think this was the norm. Unfortunately, today's society does not favor manners and etiquette. It favors "the one with the most toys wins."
On my way to the bank, I saw what looked like two young teens in sweats and t-shirts in the distance walking their dog. As I approached, I soon realized both of the women were about forty. Both were very attractive, but tiny. At the time it was a pleasant surprise, but then it dawned on me about how nice it must be that the toughest part of your day is walking your dog. I mean, it was 2 in the afternoon, and yes, maybe their kids were at camp, but it's not like these two had put any effort into their wardrobes or makeup. They had the life. I was envious.
This leads me to my next topic and somewhat relates to the last subject. On the way home from work, I saw a similar scene. This time it was two girls wearing identical clothing. Black tight stretch pants and blue tops. The same blouse. As I drew closer they appeared to be mother and daughter. Listen, Mrs. Robinson, trying to look young is fine, but dressing like your sixteen year old daughter verges on creepy. Plus, if you have a better body than said daughter, you're just cruel.
I turned the corner and saw a great sight. A grandfather walking with his very young grandson. The little guy was walking on the inside, towards the curb and grandpa, who wasn't that old was laboring to walk. The whole time I could see that he was talking to the child. Pointing to a bird in a tree or maybe a squirrel. Reminded me of how precious that bond is. The whole time the little boy walked and listened and never let go of his grandfather's hand.
Of course we can't end my day on a that note. I pulled near my house and saw a parking spot. Well, let's call it one-third of a spot. A work truck had taken up three spots, by parking right in the middle of the middle spot. I glared at the truck and drove on. Finally parking a little further down the road. I walked the few extra feet, which wasn't the problem. As is usually what bothers me, it's the principal of things. Finally I entered my humble abode. I flipped on the light and then pulled the switch in the bathroom to find that I had reached the six week mark, or is it seven, since my super said he'd fix my bathroom light. Accountability? A free home for keeping my building habitable. It passes barely.
Finally I sat down, threw on my computer and decided to take a look at the world outside of my little bubble. Apparently, the war is over, the election worked out, the Honduran president has been put back into power, education is working and literacy is at 100%, there are no homeless or hungry people in America or in the World. The world is safe and all is good. How else could every news program, every TV station and every radio station be talking about Michael Jackson still. I hope Nelson Mandela, Desmond Tutu, Jerry Lewis, Bono, and others who actually made a change, get this notoriety when they pass.
Finally I went to sleep that night. Forgot my problems for a few brief hours, forgot the atrocities that surround us, forgot the woman who didn't say thank you after I held the door, forgot the mom trying to be labeled a MILF, forgot the parking spots that were taken, and forgot about the Michael Jackson coverage. All those images and thoughts faded away like the morning fog and all that was left was the image of the little boy, his tiny hand enveloped by his grandfather's. The pride displayed by the elder as he shared the beauty of something as simple as a tiny animal with the youngster. I closed my eyes and the vision carried me off to somewhere else; somewhere calm and peaceful. A place where you see something beautiful and just maybe, not to anyone in particular, but just because you feel it, you say "thank you."
The other day, driving to the bank and driving home from work, I noticed many things. Some of these things are evident every day, if one just opens their eyes. Some are harder to see. None of these are revelations, so if you thought you'd be knocked off your feet, you'll have to wait for the 40 bus and stand a little to close to the sidewalk.
I feel I do more for others than others do for me. I'm not talking about people I know. I mean strangers. I hold doors, say thank you, offer to help people with bags, etc. I wave people ahead when two cars approach an intersection at the same time. I let people know when traffic is bad if I overhear or let them know the updated forecast if I hear people discussing some weather related activity. It's not a big deal, but I'd like to think this was the norm. Unfortunately, today's society does not favor manners and etiquette. It favors "the one with the most toys wins."
On my way to the bank, I saw what looked like two young teens in sweats and t-shirts in the distance walking their dog. As I approached, I soon realized both of the women were about forty. Both were very attractive, but tiny. At the time it was a pleasant surprise, but then it dawned on me about how nice it must be that the toughest part of your day is walking your dog. I mean, it was 2 in the afternoon, and yes, maybe their kids were at camp, but it's not like these two had put any effort into their wardrobes or makeup. They had the life. I was envious.
This leads me to my next topic and somewhat relates to the last subject. On the way home from work, I saw a similar scene. This time it was two girls wearing identical clothing. Black tight stretch pants and blue tops. The same blouse. As I drew closer they appeared to be mother and daughter. Listen, Mrs. Robinson, trying to look young is fine, but dressing like your sixteen year old daughter verges on creepy. Plus, if you have a better body than said daughter, you're just cruel.
I turned the corner and saw a great sight. A grandfather walking with his very young grandson. The little guy was walking on the inside, towards the curb and grandpa, who wasn't that old was laboring to walk. The whole time I could see that he was talking to the child. Pointing to a bird in a tree or maybe a squirrel. Reminded me of how precious that bond is. The whole time the little boy walked and listened and never let go of his grandfather's hand.
Of course we can't end my day on a that note. I pulled near my house and saw a parking spot. Well, let's call it one-third of a spot. A work truck had taken up three spots, by parking right in the middle of the middle spot. I glared at the truck and drove on. Finally parking a little further down the road. I walked the few extra feet, which wasn't the problem. As is usually what bothers me, it's the principal of things. Finally I entered my humble abode. I flipped on the light and then pulled the switch in the bathroom to find that I had reached the six week mark, or is it seven, since my super said he'd fix my bathroom light. Accountability? A free home for keeping my building habitable. It passes barely.
Finally I sat down, threw on my computer and decided to take a look at the world outside of my little bubble. Apparently, the war is over, the election worked out, the Honduran president has been put back into power, education is working and literacy is at 100%, there are no homeless or hungry people in America or in the World. The world is safe and all is good. How else could every news program, every TV station and every radio station be talking about Michael Jackson still. I hope Nelson Mandela, Desmond Tutu, Jerry Lewis, Bono, and others who actually made a change, get this notoriety when they pass.
Finally I went to sleep that night. Forgot my problems for a few brief hours, forgot the atrocities that surround us, forgot the woman who didn't say thank you after I held the door, forgot the mom trying to be labeled a MILF, forgot the parking spots that were taken, and forgot about the Michael Jackson coverage. All those images and thoughts faded away like the morning fog and all that was left was the image of the little boy, his tiny hand enveloped by his grandfather's. The pride displayed by the elder as he shared the beauty of something as simple as a tiny animal with the youngster. I closed my eyes and the vision carried me off to somewhere else; somewhere calm and peaceful. A place where you see something beautiful and just maybe, not to anyone in particular, but just because you feel it, you say "thank you."
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