No Whining

When my son was here on Mother’s Day, I noticed him limping a little. I asked if he hurt his foot and he said no it was blisters from walking all over town in dress shoes the night before.  I told him I had moleskins still, from when he was in the Marine Corps and offered them up but he said no thanks. A couple hours later, still limping I offered them again. “No thanks. He said. “I think I got this expression from you but - I’m really glad I have feet to hurt.”

Actually that was a bastardization of what my stepdad used to tell me when I was whining about what ever I was whining about. “I cried because I had no shoes, until I met a man who had no feet.” 

Nick’s way of saying it made much more sense coming from him though- having witnessed more than one guy lose a foot or more in Iraq.

Most people- all but my few closest friends would say I am a glass is half-empty person. And most would say the same of my son. But I contend we are realist, he and I. The glass is unimportant in every sense. It’s what's in the glass or not in the glass that counts. And if you have no glass then there is no point to the conversation. And those are the kinds of conversations I have with my boy and I love that he gets me.

I am occasionally caustic. It’s usually only with someone who has whined incessantly about something incredibly trivial (and yes I’ll make that judgment) like their hairdresser canceled on them, or their favorite store is closing or someone got their Starbucks wrong. There are work complainers that just never stop. I have from time to time suffered from this disease. They only cure I know of for this is to quit or get fired- hopefully for the sake of all around this person- one or the other will happen because the negative energy is oppressive. I try to check myself on this.

I work with someone who appears to be perpetually happy or joyous may be the better word. At first I thought, oh that will end. Now I realize this is who she is. She just prefers to see the best in everyone. (Selfishly I am glad she sees the best in me.)  No matter how bad of mood I am in when I talk to this woman, I cheer up. She undermines my crappy mood every single time. I want to interview her; you know how they interview old people in the old folk’s home. “What is the secret to your happiness?” I would ask.  And she might say; “I turn around counter clockwise three times every morning and then clockwise three times every night and that is the secret.”  Or she might say. “I have seen such sadness in my life, that I refuse to spend one more minute there. I just refuse.” I think the latter may be closer to the truth. None of us get out of life unscathed.

Joy. Joyous.  It’s a spiritual thing. It’s not like opening Christmas presents happy, it’s a deeper more soulful happy. It alludes most of us. It’s an inner peace. It’s a quiet head. It’s a gift to be shared.

So the truth is, my son and I are not the glass is half empty people that many believe we are. We just have this way of saying what we think- actually stating the obvious most of the time, but somehow that comes off as negative and usually offends the offenders.

I suppose I could shut up. I suppose I could just swallow my words- but frankly I think I would choke to death if I had to do that.

I wake up happy everyday. I start my day off with this thought. Good, I’m alive. I reach across the bed, pet my dog, and say hello baby. I try to hang on to that grateful condition. I don’t always succeed.

Today I ran into someone who is almost never happy though their life by almost anyone’s standards is not too shabby. They complain of life and its injustice all the time. I know this person has had some difficulties recently, but I am having a hard time being sympathetic because I keep remembering the man who has no feet. The woman who has no breasts, the baby that won’t see her first birthday, the old man who has no years left.

I used to have a coffee cup that my employees gave me one Christmas. It said NO WHINING. Someone stole it off my desk at another job- of course.  My son bought me a refrigerator magnet that says the same. Whining is unbecoming on most human beings- yet we all do. I think I’ll make a rule for myself. I can whine once a week for 5 minutes straight and that is it. No more. 

I need to remember the man who has no feet- and the girl who sees the best in everyone because I think that is the recipe for joy.