One Good Thing to Celebrate
Not the color of their uniform but the content of their character.
I’ve been talking to 4 of my friends far more frequently on the phone over the last 2 weeks. I can’t understand why. 🙂
My conversation with one of those friends tends often to turn into disempowering “Ain’t it awful?” The issues range from the huge loss of freedom Americans have experienced in the last 2 weeks to our fears about the coronavirus to our anger at President Trump for imposing even stronger sanctions on Iran while it’s dealing with a potentially large loss of life
I proposed something yesterday to help us have balance. I proposed that we lead off each conversation with a “new and good.” That’s a term I learned in my men’s group taught by Fred Jealous in the late 1980s.
I shared one with him this morning.
I’m signed up to our local Nextdoor sight. Nextdoor, for those of you who don’t know, is sometimes called “Facebook for old people.” Although, to be fair, my 35-year-old daughter uses Intagram and thinks of Facebook itself as being Facebook for old people. Someone posted on Nextdoor that her car had been broken into in her driveway. Such things are fairly rare in my town of Pacific Grove.
I realized that I had been junking up my car with shopping bags, jackets, and Wall Street Journals over the last week or so and that’s a temptation for thieves. So I went outside and moved a massive amount to my trunk and carried a massive amount inside.
I went to bed tired at 9:15 last night. I fell asleep pretty quickly. At about 11 p.m., I heard my wife come upstairs and the intensity of her feet on the steps woke me up. I have a lot of “night fears” from memories of some pretty awful stuff that happened in my house when I was about 13. So I woke up fearing that she had got bad news from our daughter. Instead, my wife told me that the police had come to the door and reported that my trunk was open. So I quickly threw on shoes and a sweater over my pajamas, picked up a flashlight, and went out to the car. The police were still there and I quickly scanned the trunk with my flashlight, noticing that nothing seemed to be missing.
The policeman were so friendly. The one who was closer to me (in my tiredness, I think we forgot the 6-foot rule) had the most angelic smile and the most beautiful eyes. He then apologized for having had to wake me up. I answered “No, no, no, no, no, please don’t apologize.” Sometimes I have generalized negatively about police. But this experience reminds me that I should remain an individualist and, to slightly alter my favorite quote from Martin Luther King, Jr., that I should judge people “not by the color of their uniform, but by the content of their character.”