"Be kinder than necessary, for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle." -T.H. Thompson
I am no saint. People get under my skin just as much as the next person. I have a T-shirt that reads, "Partnership for an Idiot Free America". I know, classy. I grumble (still smiling) at the slow checker at Farmer's Market, and I white-knuckle it through traffic every morning. The point to this blog is that lately I have found myself getting a bit snippy with my fellow earthlings. In return, I have recently had some get snippy right back, and some uncalled for. This is life.. I understand this, and am under no illusions that there will likely ever be world peace. I think, though, what I'm trying to say is basically just what T.H. Thompson said up there: We're all victims of Life's diseases - We cannot control the actions of others, only those of ourselves. In turn, we must take responsibility for what comes into our thoughts, out of our mouths, and of our actions.
John Maddox, an 83 year old, retired man lives 2 doors down from me. He wears his black glasses, smokes cigars, wears a tie to church every Sunday... and I suppose would probably be living in some distinguished, quiet area of Florida by now if it wasn't for Carol wanting to be near the family. At 6:45 every morning, John walks out to his porch to take the paper in and walk the dogs. Just about this time, Carol (who he's been married to for over 40 years), opens the door to yell to her husband that he's left the coffee pot out and the back door open. Usually at this point I'm rushing to my car, fumbling with my keys, running back to the front door to lock it, and stammering back to my car again, trying my hardest not to get my heels stuck in the lawn or spill my coffee. Every morning, without fail, John will shout over to me, "You wouldn't have to rush if you'd get up earlier!" followed by, "How about you come over tomorrow morning for a hardy breakfast and some REAL coffee? We're nice company, sugar".... I smile politely and throw in a small courteous chuckle as I hop furiously into my car and peel out of my driveway.
Over the last year this has gradually gone from cute to cringe-worthy as I am invited into a new conversation every morning that I, in my mind, have no need or time for. I've tried everything to dodge this occurrence, but to no avail. I always seem to go over the same statement in my head each time I drive off - Of course, these old retirees have nothing else to do all day but prune their gardens, watch Wheel of Fortune, and pick on me when I'm obviously trying to get to work.
Last week as I stumbled out to my car, I quickly noticed the silence radiating from the Maddox residence. It struck me as odd that the morning routine had been forfeited, but I shrugged it off thinking, "Thank God, I guess they decided to sleep in today", and hurried on my way. After a few days of this I started to wonder about my overly-friendly neighbors.
Carol Ann Maddox died at 3:30am four days prior from complications of breast cancer.
She left behind 4 children, 6 grandchildren, 2 dogs, and John, the love of her life and morning coffee buddy for over 40 years.
All this time, this old couple wasn't trying to damper my morning at all. In fact, they wanted me to do just the opposite: Stop and smell the coffee. They were soaking up as much of life as they could in the midst of the troubles that very well could have taken them over at any moment.
That guy that cut you off on the freeway this morning is hoping he won't be laid off from work today.
The girl that didn't smile back at the grocery store is dreading going home to fighting parents.
This morning, I knocked on John's door, with sugar in one hand and a mug in the other.
I think you'll find that if you stop to look around, it's not all about you.
John Maddox, an 83 year old, retired man lives 2 doors down from me. He wears his black glasses, smokes cigars, wears a tie to church every Sunday... and I suppose would probably be living in some distinguished, quiet area of Florida by now if it wasn't for Carol wanting to be near the family. At 6:45 every morning, John walks out to his porch to take the paper in and walk the dogs. Just about this time, Carol (who he's been married to for over 40 years), opens the door to yell to her husband that he's left the coffee pot out and the back door open. Usually at this point I'm rushing to my car, fumbling with my keys, running back to the front door to lock it, and stammering back to my car again, trying my hardest not to get my heels stuck in the lawn or spill my coffee. Every morning, without fail, John will shout over to me, "You wouldn't have to rush if you'd get up earlier!" followed by, "How about you come over tomorrow morning for a hardy breakfast and some REAL coffee? We're nice company, sugar".... I smile politely and throw in a small courteous chuckle as I hop furiously into my car and peel out of my driveway.
Over the last year this has gradually gone from cute to cringe-worthy as I am invited into a new conversation every morning that I, in my mind, have no need or time for. I've tried everything to dodge this occurrence, but to no avail. I always seem to go over the same statement in my head each time I drive off - Of course, these old retirees have nothing else to do all day but prune their gardens, watch Wheel of Fortune, and pick on me when I'm obviously trying to get to work.
Last week as I stumbled out to my car, I quickly noticed the silence radiating from the Maddox residence. It struck me as odd that the morning routine had been forfeited, but I shrugged it off thinking, "Thank God, I guess they decided to sleep in today", and hurried on my way. After a few days of this I started to wonder about my overly-friendly neighbors.
Carol Ann Maddox died at 3:30am four days prior from complications of breast cancer.
She left behind 4 children, 6 grandchildren, 2 dogs, and John, the love of her life and morning coffee buddy for over 40 years.
All this time, this old couple wasn't trying to damper my morning at all. In fact, they wanted me to do just the opposite: Stop and smell the coffee. They were soaking up as much of life as they could in the midst of the troubles that very well could have taken them over at any moment.
That guy that cut you off on the freeway this morning is hoping he won't be laid off from work today.
The girl that didn't smile back at the grocery store is dreading going home to fighting parents.
This morning, I knocked on John's door, with sugar in one hand and a mug in the other.
I think you'll find that if you stop to look around, it's not all about you.
That's really good stuff Meg--I am extremely impressed with that, especially if u came up with that on your own. You have a real knack for writing. And I'm not just saying that cuz i think you're cute :p