It’s All Up to You

     I’ve read recently that people have become emotional handcuffed by the problems in the world. They can’t function and have a dim view of the future.
     The world problems have kidnapped their emotions and taken control of their lives. That’s devastating news to find out you have lost control and see little chance for recovery. Is it true? Yes, it is, if you let happen to you, but it’s all up to you.
     You’ve heard of the optimist and pessimist view of the glass half full. Well, that’s what it’s about. It’s not all about what’s happening in the world, but how you internalize it. Letting world problems affect you in a negative way is the catalyst for taking emotional control of your life. How much has your life changed in the past year because of outside influences? If the answer is many things, then you need to take a step back and revaluate. The one thing you have total control of is your reaction to a situation.
    World problems won’t go away, just replaced by another. Being stressed out, sleep deprived and physically exhausted won’t make you live to the fullest and won’t make the problems disappear. Put things in to perspective and do the right thing for yourself. You are at your best when you put yourself first.
     The world is not perfect and neither are our lives but there is one thing that’s perfect. Resilience of people to overcome their problems. I believe if we take care of our own problems, the world problems will start to shrink. “Just Saying . . . “

Too Much

     Is there something to the saying, “Too much of a good thing is bad.” News is good, basically, but is it necessary to be bombarded with it 24/7? Don’t we need some downtime from news overload? I do. What are the negative effects of too much news?
     Electronics has changed our lives with the invention of smart phones, which led to a whole array of electronic devices. It has improved our lives in some ways, but we now seem to be under constant surveillance. There’s too many people and things watching us. While it’s true many of these devices are meant to protect us but they also invade our personal space. It seems like it’s too much of an intrusion for the benefits we receive.
     Bacon is the exception to this rule. There is never too much bacon. No one ever says, “No more bacon for me. I’ve had enough.”
     There is too much reality TV. One episode is more than adequate. Anything beyond that is too much. Think about it, why would anyone care about the characters on “Big Brother.” It’s been on TV for over 20 years, but I don’t understand why.
     But, let’s get back to bacon. It enhances everything. Salads are healthy and many have bacon bits. Bacon on burgers was a historic idea. Chocolate covered bacon. Who would turn that down? No one I know.
     I’ve noticed a lot of people protesting. It’s a good way to voice your objections. But, sometimes it turns into complaining, even worse whining. Politicians do a lot of whining. Too much whining, that’s all I’m saying.
     I know this all may be too much to think about, but remember, we‘ll always have bacon. “Just Saying . . .”


 

Suspicious Minds

     The truck made a slow turn down Capital Street as if the driver was looking for something. Just an old green Chevy step-side pickup, which had the fender wells on the outside of the truck bed. An unimportant detail unless you’re a car guy, but some details become more important when a crime is involved. As a retired detective from a major metropolitan city, I was attuned to picking out details even in my small-adopted town.

     It was a quiet Thursday morning, but that would soon change. Lunchtime neared, which brought heavy traffic to the many fast-food restaurants on Capital. The park would be bustling with joggers and people stealing away for a few minutes of sanity from a hectic work life. People lived more stressful lives these days and welcomed a time to let their guard down; lunch was one of those opportunities.

     I made my rounds to the local downtown businesses dropping off the free weekly Triton newspaper. I didn’t earn much, but it occupied a little of my retirement free time. The extra money came in handy, but it was more about keeping busy. I always made sure I completed my deliveries before lunch hour, then I could sit in the park, and people watch. Not an exciting life, but interesting, because people are interesting. 

     This morning, as I walked to my usual spot in the park I again noticed the green pickup as it drove down Capital Street. This time the bed was full. A tarp held down the load with bungee straps.  Normally the sight of a loaded pickup rarely drew attention or caused concern, this being a blue-collar town, but there was something different today. 

     This time I noticed the driver, Middle Easterner, with a full beard, as one might expect. There was a passenger too, a black man, African American or whatever the proper term is now. Immediately, my suspicions surfaced, but should they? My police background, reinforced by the nightly news was the cause. The news survives by promoting fear. The truck slowed and finally stopped in front of a multi-story office building, Capital Insurance, employing about 300 workers.

     It couldn’t be ignored, especially this time of year with all the holiday shoppers out and about.  I called the police to report a suspicious truck. 

     The police responded quickly. Many spectators watched from afar. I felt I had done the smart thing, but it didn’t feel right. The police talked with the driver for about fifteen minutes, then a tow truck appeared, hooked up the old truck and dragged it away. By now there were three squad cars. The two suspects got in one of the police cars and were driven away. 

     What was going on? Did I divert an impending disaster? Just then a cop pulled over to the crowd. Questions flew at him like pellets in an ice storm.

     “What’s going on?”

     “Who are those people?”

     “Are we in danger?”

     The cop held up his hands to quiet the crowd, then said. “Everything is under control. We were just checking into some suspicious behavior. I can’t say anything more at this time.”

     “Seems like that’s always your response,” someone yelled from the crowd.

     “Yeah!” others said in agreement.

     “Look, if you want to know more come over to Brantley’s high school auditorium on Friday night at 6:00 pm. We should have more information at that time.” The cop stated.

* * *

     Friday night came quickly. In the meantime, the town buzzed with rumors about the green truck and the occupants. The parking lot was full that night when I arrived. It seemed like everyone wanted to know what impending danger lay ahead.

     The crowd sat anxiously waiting for the police to explain. The Chief of Police walked out to address the crowd.

     “This is a highly unusual situation, which is easier to understand if I show you this,” as he pulled back a curtain to display a mountain of toys.  

     The Chief went on to explain. “The two men we picked up the other day, both Muslims, have been collecting and repairing toys to distribute to poor children of this town for the Christmas holiday. It’s not their religious holiday, but they knew most of the people in this town are Christian and, they wanted to do something for the children.” They need help to complete their Christmas wish. If anyone’s able to help, please see Ahmed or Abdul after the meeting.”

     A stunned silence struck the crowd and a line immediately formed in front of the two Muslims to sign up to help. That day I learned some details could lead you in the wrong direction. 

     I still deliver the local paper, but when I’m finished I skip the park and instead go to Ahmed and Abdul’s Coffee and Tea House in an unfamiliar part of town. The back of their shop has a room filled with broken toys in need of repair. Toys for the poor kids bring us together as our worlds grow closer.