(This was the Facebook post that provided the final inspiration to start a blog, so I thought it fitting to preserve it here).
So, I was shoveling snow off my car early this afternoon: enjoying the balmy 24-degree New Year's Day, when I turned to see a woman in her minivan, driving down the small road that winds through this townhome community like a lazy computer cable. Unfortunately, our road hasn't been plowed or sanded, so caution is the word around here. So imagine my surprise when I focused in on this otherwise unremarkable scene and saw her talking on her phone, with eyes barely watching the rather treacherous road. Take that in: soccer mom car, probably 2-3 inches of packed snow and ice on the ground, numerous other cars parked in easy reach of an insurance claim. Yet there she was, preoccupied with whatever inane chatter had been deemed too important for her to pull over and finish. My first thoughts were... not pleasant. The primal urge to do something irrational, seemed instead, rather rational; righteous even. Not that I knew what I would do, but you know those boiling emotions that threaten to burst your veins, filling the area with immeasurable heat, sulfur and malice? Yeah, those. I had to do something.
But at that moment, a little voice spoke, from deep down in the darker places of my heart. It sounded as innocent as a chipmunk nibbling a sunrise breakfast, but its words were riding a freight train.
So I listened.
"What about the others," it asked. And across the garden of my mind, I stumbled an answer: "What others? There's just one idiot."
"The others... everywhere. The ones you haven't counted. Now go, start your tally, and when you return, compare your numbers."
Not one to ignore my inner voice, I began my count, as I carefully drove through this snow-wrapped city. And it wasn't long before I noticed a trend. Most drivers, despite possible hangovers, and imperfect roads and the dread of returning to work on Monday, were just fine. People mostly kept a safe distance between one-another, and drove slower than posted limits. I only saw one person on their phone, and that was at a stop light. Heck, at least three people in a large parking lot were actually using their turn signals.
And when I entered the various buildings on my errands list? Just normal people, doing normal people things. Only two folks in the local Barnes and Noble made me uncomfortable, as I'm fairly sure they were shoplifting. But really, that's not my problem to solve.
So at the end of the day? Four human-based reasons to get frustrated. Four reasons to lash out; to think 2022 is going to suck worse than having to wade into the stench of a massive whale carcass to recover your engagement ring.
But on the other hand: 67 reasons to remind myself that humanity isn't quite ready to collapse. Not yet. Sixty-seven people who spent New Year's Day going about their business: devouring bar food, laughing with friends, reading their latest graphic novel over a cappuccino. And of course, that adorable old man at the gas station: sitting in his car, sipping a drink, watching this busy old world make its way down 320th Avenue.
Now honestly, I don't know if I will see the end of this year: life is just a torrent of change right now. But as long as I draw breath, I'm going to carry this lesson with me. Not just because optimism is in short supply (I think most of the containers are still parked off the shores of Tacoma and Long Beach), but there's something deeper still. And I'm going to find it.