Posted on 01/16/2002 1:25:44 AM PST by Mercuria
A dear acquaintance of mine is an employee at one of the tonier eateries here in the greater Los Angeles area. He's a hard and cheerful worker. He was recently reprimanded, a rare occurrence in his over two years of employment.
As a customer was leaving after having had lunch my pal called out, "Have a great day!", with sincerity, and within the owner's earshot. The owner quickly spun around and said, "Darling, you have no right to tell someone what kind of day they should have." The term of endearment did nothing to melt the ice of the delivery.
One of my closest friends recently gave birth to her fourth bundle of joy. Her last month of maternity was filled with the drama of several false labors, embarrassing to such a pro, though quite amusing to her family and friends. As she went in for a checkup just before her due date, her husband -- as in supporter of her and the first three babes and payer of the monthly insurance bill -- called the hospital and asked that he be notified if they were going to consider inducing the birth.
When she arrived for the appointment she found herself being treated rather rudely, dismissively. When the doctor walked into her curtained-off-cubicle his first words were, "It's your body, you know. You can make any decisions you want on your own." She had no idea what he was talking about, but his disdain failed to dissipate and by the time she walked out to her car she was in tears.
A week later the baby was born, healthy, hearty and handsome, a genuine gem amidst the generic of the modern-day maternity ward. As my friend was checking out she said to the head nurse, "Why is it that this is labor and delivery, but it looks like a prison? Pastel paint can't cost more than gray, but it's much more cheerful."
"Not all women keep their babies," replied the nurse. But her tone was saying, "Duh!"
By now most people know about the homage to political correctness the New York Fire Department and assorted groups are planning on raising in commemoration of the sacrifices made at the World Trade Center on September the 11th. They're commissioning a sculpture based on the world famous photograph of three firefighters raising the American flag over the rubble that ruinous day, but in a paean to relativism over reality, the faces (and bodies!?) of the actual actualizers have been retooled to reflect a more diverse display. The flag, the former focus, is an afterthought.
It is now an Ode to The Outcry; The Outcry That Almost Wasn't. The clay model was unveiled several weeks ago, on December the 20th to be exact, to all the mush that is the mainstream media. The revision wasn't worthy of mention then. No, once again, it took individuals to fuss and fret and foment at the fabrication. Now it's news. But only because The People made it so.
The three men who raised that flag -- Dan McWilliams, George Johnson and Billy Eisengrein -- probably didn't set out to become global symbols that day. They look like three ordinary guys who needed to be inspired; yet they ended up inspiring millions. No, they weren't perfectly sinewed, they weren't a rainbow coalition, they didn't look like stereotypical heroes, but few true heroes ever do. But they were who they were, they did what they did, and they deserve recognition in whatever permanent position their actions eventually inspire.
But like the cheer of a person paid to greet and bid adieu, or the bliss of a new mother, let not their simple happiness be sustained, lest it be contagious or, worse, lest it remind someone else that it is not their own personal delight.
Henry Miller, in Sexus, put it so much better (yes, it seems someone almost always already has):
Tears are easier to put up with than joy. Joy is destructive: it makes others uncomfortable. 'Weep and you will weep alone.' What a lie that is! Weep and you will find a million crocodiles to weep with you. The world is forever weeping. The world is drenched in tears... But joy, joy is a kind of ecstatic bleeding, a disgraceful sort of supercontentment which overflows from every pore of your being. You cannot make people joyous just by being joyous yourself. Joy has to be generated by oneself. It is or it isn't. Joy is founded on something too profound to be understood or communicated. To be joyous is to be a madman in a world of sad ghosts.
Have whatever kind of day you wish.
Mercurial Times exclusive commentary. Reprints must credit the author and Mercurial Times.
Ouch! And that is another truth! There is always something in this world to find joy in. The key is that you must want to find it! It is possible to find joy vicariously through another, but it is never as meaningful as when it comes from within.
I suppose I could live my days whining about the agony I'm in, and how unfair life is, but that sounds pretty darn ridiculous to me. I look at it this way -- I have found the world's absolute best doctors who continue to be "heroes" to me, and I consider myself extremely lucky in that regard. Things could be much, much worse, and I know it.
I love to crack jokes, crack wise, and crack people up! And I can still do that! I love to do what I can do, and I don't much care for dwelling on what I can't. I have a choice, and I choose to be optimistic. Almost everyone has a choice in that regard. Some folks are all too eager to give up their power to others. Not I! Not now, not ever, regardless of what the future holds.
I love having control over how I feel, and if I am feeling "joyous," no one can bring me down. I won't let them! Sad Sacks are shown the door, if they are unwilling to open themselves up to life's possibilities. I am more than happy to help others who want to help themselves, but people who are satisfied with being empty are a drain.
You bet your life I'm an idealist! The ideal should be the goal in every situation. Why strive for less??
A "madman?" I could be one, I suppose. (Except I'm a girl! *G*) As long as I remain joyous, I don't really care if I'm labeled as being "mad." May the whole world be as "mad" -- and soon!! ;-}
FReegards,
FMCDH
We hate it when our friends become successful, We hate it when our friends become successful. Oh, look at those clothes, Now look at that face it's so old, And such a video, Well, it's really laughable, Ah hahahaha etc.We hate it when our friends become successful, And if they're northern That makes it even worse and If we can destroy them You bet your life we will destroy them. If we can hurt them, well, We may well. It's really laughable, Ah hahahaha etc.You see, it should have been me. It could have been me. Everybody knows, everybody says so. They say, "Oh, you have loads of songs, So many songs, More songs than they can stand -- Verse, chorus, middle eighth break" Just listen, "La la la etc."
Oy! It does, at that!! I only saw the bronze business briefly (alliterate today, am I not?! *G*) on FOX News, and didn't have enough time to take a proper gander. But you are so right! The flag is much smaller, proportionately, than in the photo!! I guess we know where their heads were at when the statue was designed!! Despicable. Utterly despicable!
But yes, they did strip the photo of its humanity, and the symbolism went falling by the wayside. They just added a whole new meaning to "lost something in the translation!"
How many grants would the ex-NEA grant guy need to buy himself a clue?!
AB
| ESFP | Entertainer | Radiates attractive warmth and optimism. Smooth, witty, charming, clever. Fun to be with. Very generous. |
I love it! Gotta remember that one...
Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.