Remember me

When I leave this planet, there will be no tombstone, no mausoleum, no endowed chair, no charity to remind the living of my time here.

The best I hope for is to have been (and selfish younger me would never have imagined this) kind, generous, patient, civil and possessed of a real good sense of humor (got it!). And that those qualities made life better for others around me. Because I think the best we have to offer others is the best that's in us, not for the reward of heaven, or reincarnation, or at the lowest level, avoiding hell, but because we can in the here and now.

There's a scene in "Schindler's List" in which Ralph Fiennes' character, the odious concentration camp commander, is being talked out of not shooting a young boy, an inmate , because he has the power not to. He seems to buy the argument, then kills the boy anyway. That's the seduction of power and it's addiction. That killing may have given the commander a fix, but it only left him wanting more of the same hideous drug.

The better addiction is finding the place that lets you set aside your own immediate needs and face the world not as one against many, but as part of a group of souls made of the same stuff as you. So when you are in a hurry, easier to smile and say excuse me. Or to let another go ahead. Doesn't mean you let yourself be taken advantage of, just that in the daily bustle, you see the larger picture of your journey.

This all seems very nicey-nicey from Miss Prickly here.

(Brief pause here for viewing of Andrea Martin on YouTube. No, I am not linking. Open a new browser window and find it. Hmm hmm hmm. Back? OK, good!)

One reason I am thinking about this is how often older people unload about their aches, pains, ills, etc., in response to a simple "How are you?"

Another is: I've been told a few too many times lately how tired I look. By strangers. Why? Such a comment serves no purpose, except to make me want to run to the restroom and see how dark the bags are under my eyes. Thanks!

It's like a stranger telling you to "Smile!" Why? So stranger can feel good?

Of course strangers don't know my husband is in the hospital and that I am worried and stretching myself with visits and trying to figure out his care. Still. Butt out!

I resolve never to tell another that he or she looks tired, and never to complain to another about my aches and pains.

When someone says "How are you?" the proper response is "I'm good! Thanks!"