More Delights and Disdains . . .

of a diminutive nature of late . . . Number 28

Disdains:

Reading that researchers have linked Parkinson’s with living near golf courses. They speculate that pesticides and herbicides used to keep the course tidy and green collect in the ground water around the course. No word on if the poisons build up in sand traps. If so, then that would explain where my Parkinson’s originated . . .

Not knowing if my slight memory missteps are due to age (I will be 59 and holding this year), Parkinson’s, or something worse . . . like overuse of my smartphone to research irrelevant data about the latest Netflix Nordic noir crime drama while watching it, of course. Anyway, I remember not remembering, so that’s good.

Delights:

Being mobile enough to help my son move out of his college apartment and back home for the summer. I almost leapt for joy when we had to make another trip due to the number of books that he had accumulated. Books are and have been a very real presence in my house. They, along with my menagerie of dogs, were great friends during child-hood periods of summer solitude, so I am glad that his appreciation of books has grown. He has even picked up a catchphrase from his favorite professor: “Words Matter.”

Discussing my son’s goal of going to law school where words do matter. Having a great appreciation for Southern literature, I have encouraged him to read about the various attorneys found in the stories of Southern writers. By whom I mean William Faulkner’s Gavin Stevens playing with his Phi Beta Kappa key on his watch chain as he waits for clients who never come, Robert Penn Warren’s unnamed Scholarly Attorney turned religious fanatic who went from the big house to the poor house in one generation, and Harper Lee’s world famous Atticus Finch playing the white knight - all three unique representations of how generational poverty impacted the South.

Receiving a note from an old acquaintance with whom I had lost contact. He offered his condolences on the passing of my wife earlier this year. He went on to say that he knew that I had “experienced more than your share of life’s hardships. Even so, what an inspiration you are to many for your indomitable spirit.” I was somewhat taken aback by the words “hardships” and “inspiration.” Sure, tragedy has admittedly stalked me since I was a child but then I have always been a glass is half-full kind of person and have stayed ahead of it . . . mostly. I have failed to keep my head up at times but I have never lost faith. That’s not exactly inspiring.

I have not lived another life so I really don’t know if my life is harder or easier than the life of someone else. My ignorance of how other people actually feel while living their lives is one of the reasons why I am not envious of the so-called 1%. If I base my limited knowledge of how the entertainment media presents the billionaire class, I would not want to be them - isolated, paranoid and full of guilt - but then they are just fictional characters. The real-life 1% are probably as mundane or dynamic in their pursuit of happiness as the other 99%.