This year, I’m forgoing the traditional path of goal setting, and taking a new approach for my resolutions. Instead of compiling a list of things I will do, I am making a list of things I will absolutely, positively NOT to do in 2011.
This year, I will NOT blow past pedestrians in the crosswalk or beep my horn at the car in front of me one second after the light turns green. I will not zoom past school buses with their red lights flashing, pass on the right or cut someone off as they try to merge. I will not crash my shopping cart into parked cars, or toss trash out of my car window.
I will NOT leave my sidewalk un-shoveled to the peril of pedestrians, mail carriers and runners, nor will I leave two feet of snow on my hood to crash into the driver’s windshield behind me because I am too lazy or late to bother pushing it off.
I will NOT cough into someone’s face, or offer my hand to shake after sneezing into my own. I will not drag my martyr self into work when I’m contagious so I can infect everyone else, nor will I call out sick just because I have sick days and need to use them or lose them. I will not heat up fish or burn popcorn in the office microwave, or wear so much perfume that you can locate me by smell alone.
I will NOT jump into the newly opened register line at check out, bypassing those who have been waiting much longer, or hold up the line begging the cashier to honor a 10 cent off coupon that expired weeks ago. I will not be rude to service employees trying to do their job, or take my frustration out on the messenger of bad news. I will try not to be the messenger of bad news. I will not judge a book by its cover, nor will I cover for someone who should get the book thrown at them.
I will NOT take the last piece of paper without replenishing it, be it toilet, tissue or copy machine. I will not put something back that is broken for the next person to think they did it. I will not place blame, point the finger or pass the buck. I will not ask you to split the check if I get a steak and you get a salad.
I will NOT look for the easy way out, wimp out, or cheap out. I will not talk down, talk over or talk negatively about others. I will not exaggerate, commiserate or irritate. I will not hold others responsible for my personal happiness or lack of it. I will not blame the past, or waste today worrying about tomorrow. I will not stand by, stand back, or stand around when I can do something.
I will NOT compare my misery to others in a no win battle of whose life is worse, or forget that we all carry our own burdens. I will not expect the worst, or have unrealistic expectations. I will not quit, complain or compromise. I will not follow blindly, be blind to the truth or turn a blind eye to injustice.
I will NOT work the system, cheat the system, or be a product of the system. I will not curse the darkness, but will light a candle instead (actually, I think someone else said that, so never mind). I will not talk softly or carry a big stick. I will not stick it to anyone, nor will I stick to the beaten path. I will not let sticks or stones break my bones, or words hurt me. I will not have double standards, lower my standards or stand for nothing. I will not overindulge, overanalyze or over share.
And for once, I will NOT regret what I didn’t do in the New Year, because that was my goal from the start.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Monday, December 20, 2010
A Wonderful Life, Revisited
"Strange, isn't it George, how each man's life touches so many others, and when he isn't around it leaves an awful hole."
If you attributed this opening quote to Clarence the Angel from Its a Wonderful Life- congratulations! You have successfully been hypnotized by the holiday hype sadly synonymous with the Christmas season.
Who wouldn’t feel festive after watching poor George Bailey living a life of obligation, working long hours day after day in the same drab office, living in a broken down home barely making ends meet so that others could fulfill their dreams? Ironically, being in the business of dream fulfillment meant that George had to forgo his own dreams along the way. And he lived with that regret until it became unbearable, carrying the weight of his responsibilities right to the edge of the local bridge, prepared to let it sink him once and for all.
Merry Christmas everyone!
They say It’s a Wonderful Life was unsuccessful in its theatrical debut because it was deemed too depressing as it showcased the despair of a time when our country was at war, families were struggling to buy and maintain their homes, and greed was gaining ground over goodness. Sound familiar?
If you have never seen the movie and are now intrigued, I’m warning you the spoiler is coming. Just as George is ready to jump into the river with the weight of the entire town on his back, a fledgling angel named Clarence swoops down to show George what life would be like without him. Apparently without him, Bedford Falls turns into something like Las Vegas, beautiful women become old maids, formerly good-hearted citizens become mean-spirited drunks and greed prevails. Could one person really have such a huge impact on so many lives?
Maybe.
And for me, that maybe is everything. In a time when so many are looking for guarantees and certainties about their future, we know deep down there is no such thing. And who among us hasn’t at least sometimes hoped that the despair and sadness we have gone through isn’t for naught, and that there is a master scheme we play an important role in. We hope the karma of our good deeds will eventually bring a better life for us and those we love. We hope, because we can never truly know. But that hope drives us forward day after day. And that ‘maybe’ is worth living for.
Which leads me to my annual holiday story about my brother Stephen and I, back in a more innocent time. A time when he was young and full of hope and belief in all things good, and I was full of teenage skepticism. Its my personal version of “Yes Virginia, There is a Santa Claus”, retold year after year. I call it The Night We Saw Rudolph.
Twas the night before Christmas on Webb Street in Salem. Stephen is five years old and trying desperately to fall asleep amidst the holiday excitement and anticipation of Christmas morning.
I tell him that if Santa comes and he is still awake, he will fly right by and not bring him any toys. Just then, someone drove into the driveway of the liquor store that use to be our neighbor and put their brake lights on, causing the bedroom to glow in a bright, red light.
His eyes grew as big as saucers as he looked at the window, then at me, and muttered “Rudolph…!” just before falling asleep.
From that year forth, every Christmas Eve Stephen would turn to me and say, “Remember the night we saw Rudolph?” and we’d laugh at the memory. But as we grew to adults, I began to respond, “That wasn’t Rudolph, it was….” and before I could finish the statement he would give a little smirk and say, “SShhhh, it was Rudolph” and we’d just smile.
My brother has been gone 11 Christmases now, but I tell this story to anyone who will listen. Because looking back, Stephen was right. It was indeed Rudolph.
And although my brother may not have realized it at the time, he truly did live a wonderful life. As do we all.
If you attributed this opening quote to Clarence the Angel from Its a Wonderful Life- congratulations! You have successfully been hypnotized by the holiday hype sadly synonymous with the Christmas season.
Who wouldn’t feel festive after watching poor George Bailey living a life of obligation, working long hours day after day in the same drab office, living in a broken down home barely making ends meet so that others could fulfill their dreams? Ironically, being in the business of dream fulfillment meant that George had to forgo his own dreams along the way. And he lived with that regret until it became unbearable, carrying the weight of his responsibilities right to the edge of the local bridge, prepared to let it sink him once and for all.
Merry Christmas everyone!
They say It’s a Wonderful Life was unsuccessful in its theatrical debut because it was deemed too depressing as it showcased the despair of a time when our country was at war, families were struggling to buy and maintain their homes, and greed was gaining ground over goodness. Sound familiar?
If you have never seen the movie and are now intrigued, I’m warning you the spoiler is coming. Just as George is ready to jump into the river with the weight of the entire town on his back, a fledgling angel named Clarence swoops down to show George what life would be like without him. Apparently without him, Bedford Falls turns into something like Las Vegas, beautiful women become old maids, formerly good-hearted citizens become mean-spirited drunks and greed prevails. Could one person really have such a huge impact on so many lives?
Maybe.
And for me, that maybe is everything. In a time when so many are looking for guarantees and certainties about their future, we know deep down there is no such thing. And who among us hasn’t at least sometimes hoped that the despair and sadness we have gone through isn’t for naught, and that there is a master scheme we play an important role in. We hope the karma of our good deeds will eventually bring a better life for us and those we love. We hope, because we can never truly know. But that hope drives us forward day after day. And that ‘maybe’ is worth living for.
Which leads me to my annual holiday story about my brother Stephen and I, back in a more innocent time. A time when he was young and full of hope and belief in all things good, and I was full of teenage skepticism. Its my personal version of “Yes Virginia, There is a Santa Claus”, retold year after year. I call it The Night We Saw Rudolph.
Twas the night before Christmas on Webb Street in Salem. Stephen is five years old and trying desperately to fall asleep amidst the holiday excitement and anticipation of Christmas morning.
I tell him that if Santa comes and he is still awake, he will fly right by and not bring him any toys. Just then, someone drove into the driveway of the liquor store that use to be our neighbor and put their brake lights on, causing the bedroom to glow in a bright, red light.
His eyes grew as big as saucers as he looked at the window, then at me, and muttered “Rudolph…!” just before falling asleep.
From that year forth, every Christmas Eve Stephen would turn to me and say, “Remember the night we saw Rudolph?” and we’d laugh at the memory. But as we grew to adults, I began to respond, “That wasn’t Rudolph, it was….” and before I could finish the statement he would give a little smirk and say, “SShhhh, it was Rudolph” and we’d just smile.
My brother has been gone 11 Christmases now, but I tell this story to anyone who will listen. Because looking back, Stephen was right. It was indeed Rudolph.
And although my brother may not have realized it at the time, he truly did live a wonderful life. As do we all.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)