Have you ever thought about your reply when meeting a friend, or for that matter a total stranger, and they greet you with “How ya’ doing?” As a general rule, our answer is “fine.” Why do we hesitate to tell them that our back is killing us: Our bunions wake us when the sheet touches them: Our hair is falling out;, all of our clothing has recently gotten smaller: The spring in our steps is now recognized as a shuffle; and what we used to do all night now takes all night to do; (if we do at all). Do we really think that they care?
Suppose we convey to them all of the above problems in great detail. Are we willing to listen to them while they relate all the gory details of their latest operation as well as the new aches and pains resulting from this procedure? I think not.
Let’s face it, Ours is a ‘Sorry Lot. Everyone can take one look at us and readily discern that life has done a number on us: So why are we reluctant to reply with, “Thankfully, I’m alive,” and let it go at that. After all; they were just asking to be nice.
As I reminisce about my time on this planet after I became, “Two years older than dirt;” there is one important lesson that has guided my behavior as well as my outlook on life in general.
Every day; when I awake, the first chore for me is to read the Obituary Column in our local Newspaper . If I can’t find my name, the next job is to “PUT ON THE COFFEE.”