Moods

I really do not enjoy moods like this. Not at all.

One Year Later

I'm in Houston, where my family is preparing a personal memorial to my late sister, who died one year ago today. It's not for her, it's for us.

Causes

I can't blame Vietnam, because I wasn't there.
It wasn't the constant barrage of mortar rounds.
It wasn't the sight of babies set ablaze by napalm.

I can't blame Kent State, because I wasn't there.
It wasn't the panic of being in the line of guardsmen's fire.
It wasn't the girl kneeling in horror and rage at what they had done.

I can't blame Charles Whitman, because I wasn't there.
It wasn't the random spray of bullets from a maniac's guns.
It wasn't the terror of senseless murder on a college campus.

I can't blame the invasion of Iraq, because I wasn't there.
It wasn't the destruction of a country from a maniac's mission.
It wasn't the injection of new terrors in an old land.

I can't blame the attack on the twin towers, because I wasn't there.
It wasn't the bodies falling 100 stories to the plazas below.
It wasn't the chaotic implosion of 100 story buildings.

I can't blame the death of loved ones before my eyes, because I wasn't there.
It wasn't the absence of people who were supposed to always be there.
It wasn't the emptiness and absence of meaning.

I can't blame the natural and unnatural horror of Katrina, because I wasn't there.
It wasn't the masses huddled in ruined buildings, waiting for someone to care.
It wasn't the mud and the mayhem and the price of poverty.

I can't blame the earthquake in Haiti, because I wasn't there.
It wasn't the sight of an entire country coming unraveled in squalor.
It wasn't the actors' choices between giving to earthquake aid or buying a diamond ring.

I can't blame the tsunamis on the day after Christmas, because I wasn't there.
It wasn't the concept of hundreds of thousands of people dead.
It wasn't the videos of the sea erasing a century in an instant.

If I can't lay blame, then where does blame lay?
What took my humanity, just took it away?

Solace

It's after 1:30 am. After nearly four hours of sleep, I've finished tossing and turning for awhile. I got up, checked the faucet that has twice in recent days frozen in our uncommonly cold temperatures, and realized I wasn't up for only a moment. I'm awake now. I don't want to be, because I have an extraordinary amount of work to do in the next few days. But what I want and what I get are, today, different.

At times like this (whatever that means...I'm not quite sure), I wish I could recall pithy one-liners full of wisdom. I want quick-shots of wisdom that will make it easy for me to realize this is no big deal. I can't recall them, though. Quick-shots of wisdom elude me.

I'm too tired to find those pithy one-liners, much less to find solace in them.

Compassion

Sometimes I complain about what, at the time, seems like a big deal.

A frozen water pipe. Worse, a broken water pipe. Or the driveway is too slick with ice that I cannot get my car up the incline and into the garage, so I have to park it outside for the night. Or people expect me too much of me; their expectations are too high...perhaps they expect a greater return on their investment in me than is reasonable or warranted.

I could enumerate dozens...maybe hundreds or thousands...of examples of things about which I believe I have a legitimate reason to complain.

And then I encounter someone who has so many more reasons, of so much greater magnitude than mine. I compare my complaints to the reasons they have to complain and I'm embarrassed that I have allowed myself to become so petty.

A broken pipe versus a diagnosis of inoperable cancer. The inability to park in my warm garage versus being forced to live on the street due to loss of a job.

Yes, we could all become overwhelmed if we were to compare our little problems with the much bigger problems around us. But sometimes we don't recognize and acknowledge that we are experiencing inconveniences instead of real problems. We (and I supposed I'm using the Royal "we" here) should always understand and appreciate just how good we have it and we should make it our mission to do what we can to share just a little of our good fortune with people who don't seem to have any of it.

Maybe what I'm suggesting is that, at the very least, we should not take full advantage of all our advantages. Don't spend the money to travel to a distant city and spend money to stay in overpriced hotels to see the Super Bowl but, instead, watch it on television and send a little of the money that would have gone for travel to a homeless shelter.

I'm grasping at where to draw the line. Because I do understand guilt can play a part in how I react to the world. I don't want guilt to dictate every decision, but I don't want to allow myself to forget that I have an obligation as a human being to be compassionate and act accordingly.

Imagine

This brings tears to my eyes.