Its getting to the point
where Im no fun any more.
I am sorry.
-- From Suite: Judy Blue Eyes, Stephen Stills (1968)
Its a broken-down world, isnt it? Do you know a single, solitary person whos even close to being happy? I certainly dont. No one knows how bad things are going to get, but whats the point? Just when you think its all bottomed out and life cannot possibly get any worse, someone shoots a Congresswoman in the head.
But I wont get political.
Everyones so entrenched, so embittered, so enraged, it wouldnt make any difference, anyway.
My wife told me a joke the other day and it was funny, but I couldnt even conjure a smile.
I cant remember the last time I laughed, actually, unless its one of those rueful, weary, shrug-of-the-shoulders kind of grimace with a forced grin attached to it, like some phony afterthought, the kind that no one buys.
If youve discovered some kind of magic elixir, a tonic for these toxic times, I stand in awe and, should you care to share, send a taste my way.
Nothing I encounter is remotely positive and Im far too old to believe in that whole darkest hour is just before the dawn nonsense.
The darkest hour just gives way to another one, even more gloomy than the last.
People arent even able to carry on the Christmas spirit for a fortnight into the new year. Its as if they dressed up their homes, had a good time, accepted gifts without care and then decided, OK, the partys over ... time to hurt someone.
Your world is, I hope, decidedly different, but I doubt it.
Its time to hunker down, faithful readers, and try to stay out of the line of fire because, believe me, theyre gunning for you; not in the literal sense of putting a cross-haired target on you, but its wise to keep a low profile.
The nuts are out of the bag.
The bananas are rotting.
The crackers are loose.
Its no big surprise, though, is it? You could see it coming as long ago as the fall of 2008, maybe even before that watershed.
Baseball, if youll allow me a quick tangent, isnt the American pastime anymore. Its far too quiet, too fair, too at ease with its own leisurely pace. You want to play all night? Baseballs your game.
Not now.
Now its sudden death.
Its a football mentality that dominates the landscape, which is fine for those who find comfort in pointless violence punctuated by endless committee meetings, to lift an observation from the late George Carlin.
Spring training seems forever away and the nation is so caught up in football fever and the point spreads and the playoffs that, if I could, Id have to laugh. But theres no value in dissent these days. Youll just get rolled over like Poland, fighting the Nazi panzer divisions while defending your homeland on horseback.
So ... how do we take this sad song and make it better? Alas, the Beatles have been gone for more than 40 years -- How is that even possible? -- and were on our own.
The antidote for pessimism has always been optimism and, as a card-carrying member of the Eternal Optimists Club, I recommend the following steps:
A. Be nice to someone who hates you.
B. Share with everyone.
C. Grin, even when its fake ... and
D. Believe in a better tomorrow.
Today may be the worst day of your life, but cmon, how much worse can it get, right? Were all being tested and, if my grade-school experiences are any indication, even the most stern nun can be vanquished with effort and intelligence and guile and, yes, a smile.
Years after she thought shed probably scarred me for life, a sister of the realm wrote me a note to wish me well in whatever life held in store for me. She didnt actually apologize for being so rough on me, but she alluded to the fact that she might have overdone the whole discipline thing.
I was elated.
Not for me ... but for that far-gone nun.
Somewhere along the line, shed realized that shed screwed up and hadnt understood the whole Do unto others as you would have them do unto you command. She was a sinner, just the same as the rest of us.
And I felt sorry for her.
No one is perfect. No one should expect perfection in someone else. Were all flawed and lost and struggling for just a glimpse of happiness.
You could probably sing Somewhere, Over the Rainbow in your sleep.
I wish you pleasant dreams.
