CARE MORE THAN WHAT?

“Care more about what you can change,” is the mantra I like.

There’s something on your shoe? Clean it off.

Your house plant is drooping? Water it.

The basics are still basics.

But what about the death and destruction around the world?

Should you care more? Fly a flag? Put up lights to show solidarity?

I was behind a car yesterday, maybe five years old, plastic sheeting duct taped for a back window, and covered with stickers.

Did the driver care so much about everything that it seeped into every aspect of their life?

I don’t know, it was a random car, but I could make assumptions and guess.

But I care more than that.

For all I know it could be a stolen car, a project car, and not the car of a delusional tree-hugging latter-day hippie who probably knocked out their own window to show solidarity with ‘the people.’

I showed I cared more in the moment by not laying on the horn, flipping them off, and mooning them on the way past.

But maybe that’s just me?

 

Care More By Making A Difference

What’s the biggest difference you can make?

Baby Boomers far and wide know the answer:

When you find yourself in times of trouble, in your hour of darkness, ask for help.

Remember, when the night is cloudy there’s still a light that shines on you.

Call it what you will, but giving someone a uplifting message is never wrong.

Try for a neutral message and you’re still doing fine.

However if you drop into “fuck this, fuck that, and fuck you” as part of a normal conversation you might want to take a look under the hood before it gets a dent.

Modern times leaves that part out, the unintended consequences of an action.

Consider pharmacy advertisements to prevent a shitty disease that come with a host of shitty side-effects.

You roll that dice when you come to the end of the line with which shitty do you want to embrace.

You’ll never hear an argument about recreational chemo as a weight loss alternative, but when the time comes to make a decision for which path to take with cancer, it comes up.

 

Me: I think of it like this: I’ve got cancer and together we can find the cure. You know people. Let’s call them.

Wife: They won’t answer.

Me: Sure they will.

Wife: They thought they’d do the same thing you’re talking about and died.

Me: Dead?

Wife: Not before giving up on their personal ‘do my own research’ plan and going back for the chemo.

Me: Chemo killed them?

Wife: No. They didn’t qualify for the treatment because they were already too depleted.

Me: Damn. Depleted.

 

You’re met depleted people, seen them on TV.

It’s not always an act.

They appear normal as hell, then it sinks in: Something important has been drained off.

 

AITA Asks Where To Care

Start with the morning mirror.

Stand in front of one and ask yourself, “AITA?”

Unless you’re in a play, don’t stand there trying to summon up expressions for your emotions.

You see enough of those people not to be one.

After the mirror check while you brush your teeth and wipe eye poo away, think of who matters to you and what you plan to do with them.

It’s not the guy who borrowed your crab rings, lost them in the bay, and stopped in to joke about it.

 

“We got too wasted and forgot where we dropped them, so we got more wasted. Whoo hooo. What have you got to drink?”

 

It’s not the crew who got paid before the job was done and never came back. Not them.

 

“We need to buy a special saw to take the stump out.”

 

Maybe look a little closer to home.

Why not take your sweet face out for a walk knowing whoever sees your smile will either think you’re a little high, or they’ll get a gentle lift by not seeing another sour puss scowling their way through another miserable day.

In a world hurting so bad that giving $19 a month for any cause isn’t enough, donating isn’t enough, volunteering isn’t enough, you are still enough.

 

I took a load to Goodwill recently only to find some guy regulating drop-offs by the book: one car at a time with one bin.

Obviously a new guy.

So I parked behind the lady unloading, turned the car off and popped the back hatch, asked for a bin.

Nope. He and the lady had a chuckle while I stood waiting.

She drove off and it was my turn.

I was instructed to drop my hatch, get back in my car, and drive up.

Since this wasn’t DMV-DEQ I said I’d unload where I was.

He said the next car wouldn’t be able to pull forward.

I said what’s the difference, he wasn’t going to unload them anyway. Let’s get the cart loaded.

There was no one behind me. AITA?

I was happy giving back and clearing space in my garage.

The guy? Not so happy with someone who wouldn’t follow orders.

I call it working together and finding common ground which means my crap/treasure in the cart, not getting air traffic controlled.

I gave my analysis of what I was unloading and where it came from to someone who could care less.

To work on my theory of caring enough the whole thing took longer than it should have.

What can I say, I’m such a giver.

Was the man phased by my upbeat chatter? Not too much.

He acted like I was in the way, I acted like it was a slow Friday afternoon.