Friday, March 1, 2019

It Could Always Be Worse

The first day of March has me fulfilling the Blog title, winging to Kansas City for an Orff workshop. After battling a mysterious sore neck last week, woke up to a mysterious sore hip and still feeling the echoes of jet lag. Compared to sunny summery Singapore, San Francisco is overcast, cold and rainy. Between rain and schedule, didn’t get to ride my bike all week, my eating habits have devolved to inhaling copious amounts that make the needle rise on the bathroom scale, my e-mails-to-be-answered keep multiplying like stud rabbits and it seems I’ve mysterious arrived an hour early in Kansas City and my driver is still at school. Oh, TSA confiscated my toothpaste, claiming it was too big.

But it all could be so much worse. Like the Jewish folk-tale that I’ve done two or three times with the kids. The father in the family is complaining about the crowded conditions and noise and chaos in his small house with the wife and four noisy kids. He goes to the Rabbi who suggests he bring the cat who lives outside into the house. Doesn’t make sense to him, but hey, Rabbi knows best, so he does. The cat jumps up on counters knocking things over, yowls, makes messes. Back to the Rabbi and now a suggestion to bring a dog into the house. The dog chases the cat, barks loudly, jumps up on the couch shedding hairs. Back to the Rabbi. Three more times and in comes the goat, the sheep, the cow. Finally, the man has the gumption to tell the Rabbi that his advice is terrible. The Rabbi suggests taking all the animals out of the house and the house is restored to its former state. Only now, mysteriously, it seems so quiet and peaceful and spacious. And then the punch line: “Remember, no matter how bad things get, they could always be worse!”

We would all do well to remember. We could have a President who succeeded in his wishes to be above the law, to take away term limits, to muzzle the free press. But those necessary institutions have stood strong and I’m counting the days until he goes down. Kansas City is much colder than San Francisco, so why complain about 50 degree days? And they do sell toothpaste here. Much to be grateful for.

My ride about to arrive. On we go.

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