I’ve had it up to my eyeballs with the panicking about the horrible days to come with the bad economy and the high fuel bills, and, andand…
Are the high fuel prices biting me in the ass? Yep, and it’s not even winter yet. I live in Northern New England in a wooden tent I can’t leave legally until February and I’m self employed. Ain’t sayin’ it doan suck.
What I am saying is that I’m sick of the panic.
Could things get a lot worse than they are? ‘Course they could. Wait’ll hunger becomes an issue. It could.
Still, what in hell happened to facing difficulty with courage?
The people that post solutions and ways to get through? I salute you guys. That’s some cool stuff.
The people who say, “Yep, yep, yep, hard times suck, but damn’f I’m going to let that stop me from enjoying my days as best I can”? You guys are great. Keep it up.
I think courage is important.
My two grandmothers both grew up without much. It really colored both of their lives. One grandmother was ashamed to own anything old, and was always embarrassed. I loved her and everything, mind. She had her good points — intelligent, good at solving problems in a way that would put most of my readers to shame…
My other grandmother had all that, but she had one little extra thing, and I think it was the spark that made all the difference. She was proud of those same abilities she shared with her child’s mother-in-law. She would frequently come up with a nifty solution to something, step back, take a deep drag on her cigarette and say with most prideful sarcasm, “Never improvised a day in my life.”
Now, notice both grandmothers were clever, and could kludge a solution whenever they needed to. But that pride, that optimism and that flair?
Which of my grandmothers do you think enjoyed her life more?