So how's your New Year going so far?

  • By Mike Dewey
  • January 9, 2011
  • 271
                        
It's getting to the point where I'm no fun any more. I am sorry. -- From "Suite: Judy Blue Eyes," Stephen Stills (1968) It's a broken-down world, isn't it? Do you know a single, solitary person who's even close to being happy? I certainly don't. No one knows how bad things are going to get, but what's the point? Just when you think it's all bottomed out and life cannot possibly get any worse, someone shoots a Congresswoman in the head. But I won't get political. Everyone's so entrenched, so embittered, so enraged, it wouldn't make any difference, anyway. My wife told me a joke the other day and it was funny, but I couldn't even conjure a smile. I can't remember the last time I laughed, actually, unless it's 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 you've discovered some kind of magic elixir, a tonic for these toxic times, I stand in awe and, should you care to share, my mailing address appears at the end of each of these epistles from the hinterlands. Send a taste my way. Nothing I encounter is remotely positive and I'm 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 that the last. People aren't even able to carry on the Christmas spirit for a fortnight into the New Year. It's as if they dressed up their homes, had a good time, accepted gifts without care and then decided, "OK, the party's over ... time to hurt someone." Your world is, I hope, decidedly different, but I doubt it. It's time to hunker down, faithful readers, and try to stay out of the line of fire because, believe me, they're gunning for you; not in the literal sense of putting a cross-haired target on you, but it's wise to keep a low profile. The nuts are out of the bag. The bananas are rotting. The crackers are loose. It's 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 you'll allow me a quick tangent, isn't the American pastime, anymore. It's far too quiet, too fair, too at ease with its own leisurely pace. You want to play all night? Baseball's your game. Not now. Now it's sudden death. It's 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, I'd have to laugh. But there's no value in dissent these days. You'll 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 we're 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 it's fake ... and D. Believe in a better tomorrow. Today may be the worst day of your life, but c'mon, how much worse can it get, right? We're 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 she'd 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 didn't 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, she'd realized that she'd screwed up and hadn't 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. We're 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. Mike Dewey can be e-mailed at CarolinamikeD@aol.com or snail-mailed at 6211 Cardinal Drive, New Bern, NC 28560.


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