John Wayne is Dead and Oprah is Busy
Just a forewarning, I’m feeling really cynical today. I would like to say that I’m one of those folks that flutter around with gossamer wings; ever positive; ever cheery; ever sympathetic; striving to touch glee and good will upon others with a gold-glitter papier-mâché star-tipped wand… But I ain’t. Sometimes Pollyanna needs a good swift kick in the ass so she’ll wake up and smell what’s burning.
One of the most profound things I was ever taught was this: “Most things in life are designed to ultimately separate you from your dollar.” Think about it. Everything from the innocence of Disney to that free subscription to you thought you won to Physicians Gone Wild magazine only to find a hefty $6.50 shipping and handling charge per issue. Now I realize that is a very sad statement, a very sad state of affairs, and when I was young and idealistic I pooh-poohed the notion…but alas, with age comes wisdom, hand in hand with hard-earned calluses. The dismal truth in the above statement becomes more and more apparent everyday…it’s like noticing the chipped plaster and chicken wire on your first adult visit to the Magic Kingdom; you try to get past the fact that Mickey Mouse is a pimple-faced teenager sweating in a suit that smells like the post-game locker room of the Green Bay Packers. "Please Lord, let me see it as a real live giant cartoon mouse again... (sigh.)"
But while living in perpetual denial may help some folks cope with terrible things; seeing things as they really are helps to get things dealt with. Sometimes, ya gotta just gotta deal.
As a society, we seem to have spent so much time in the last thirty years “getting in touch with our feelings” that we have ironically abandoned some legitimate old-fashioned feelings that help keep the balance. Feelings like; Self-Sufficiency, Stalwartness, Shame, Assertiveness, Decorum, Fortitude, and my favorite; Guts.
No. Compared with previous generations that really had it bad, we are a soft-bellied herd of mewling, whiney, victim-minded, shortsighted, easily distracted, entertainment junkies. We want someone else to fix everything, and we want it done now. We look to assign blame everywhere regardless of circumstance and we believe each of us has the inalienable right to perfection without hardship. We want the rose garden AND the Barbie Malibu Dream House too. Just look a the collection of some thirty odd mooks running for president that really, truly, believe in their heart of hearts that it is their inalienable right to be the President. It’s their political party and they’ll cry if they want to…move over Paris Hilton, you aint seen nothing yet.
Yes, yes. I realize I’m painting with a very broad brush, but indulge me.
So whilst we are guilty (theGardener especially) of unabashedly seeking sympathy and attention from our loved ones when we feel ill and vulnerable from Sarcoidosis, there is a limit. There is a point where self-pity has all the effectiveness of spinning tires in red Georgia mud. There comes a time when one must blow your honker one last time, put away the tissue box, stand up, assess the situation and take charge. No one can help you better than you can. And deep inside, if you push that big ratty security blanket aside (the pink one that smells like sour milk and funk) you will discover that you have a reservoir of adult power and adult resolve. The more you utilize it, the better you will feel. Because it’s not the outcome of the battle that matters, its how you fought it. It’s character. That’s what you will remember. That is what others will remember.
Don't have the strength? Find it.
Frightened? Be brave. Get aggressive.
Don't know where to turn? Look harder. Ask louder.
Want answers? Research them!
Doctor is abusive? Dump him. Get a new one. Dime a dozen.
Feel pitiful? You get another 10 minutes, then your pity points are up.
See the situation for what it is. Use time wisely. Stop waiting for folks to say "I love you and I care" ...Tell them first. Its what YOU say and do that matters.
People are always concerned about whether anybody cares about them; but then they care for themselves least of all.
Life is hard and painful, but there are rewards everyday. Quitting is easy, but you only get to do it once and the rewards are nil. Don’t go looking for John Wayne to push down the door and clock your doctor in the mush for mistreating you…John Wayne is dead. And so is anybody who even remotely resembles the man’s resolve and sense of fairness. Oprah won’t mobilize her book of the month club to rescue you from your woes; she’s too busy shooshing Stedman aside to make room for another Rubbermaid storage bin full of cold hard cash. Your cash. The cash you were separated from.
Get it?
So here's to you, my friend. "Guts and Fortitude."
Go get 'em, Tiger.
; )
— My name is theGardener, I have two dogs, a cat, sarcoidosis, and a soapbox.