Things I'll Miss

12 Step to Kicking Niceness

Niceness can go away because it has never done anything for me. What is a smile worth without the substance to nourish respect? If all a person has to describe a man is "nice" then either that man is sugar coated and pleasing or that person is unfair and shallow in judgment. Either way, whether perceived or true, sweets leave little to grow any meaningful relationship from and so little to remember and even littler to desire. Has there ever been a word more seemingly benign yet insiduously demasculanizing as "nice?" Perhaps, pretty? Silly? Niceness can go away because it has never done anything for me. I prefer, good.

Almost

Ignorance is Bliss

"Change! Change! Change! We want change!" a young woman cried, a chrome microphone gripped in her right hand, a sign gripped in her left, change for the better, written in sprawling red letters, Elims for change, written underneath, rising up and down to the chanting crowd, the crowd crying back with every up and down, up and down. On her royal blue shirt, change, change, change, crawled down the front in alternating red and white, stars snaked their way down her sleeves. She held her voice in a loud strained pitch, carrying her message far across the room, "We want change!!" The audience chanted back, "For the better!!!" She smiled and released her control of the room. "Here is the man who will bring us change!"

"Hooray!"

"Change!"

"HOORAY!"

"CHANGE!!"

"HOORRAY!!!"

"Here he is ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Elims, the fresh young face who will bring us all the change this country needs!"

"Mr. E! MR. E!!"

Out came a young handsome man. Mr. Elims, waving his hand, humbly accepted their applause, walking his way slowly to the stand. He gazed out over a sea of faces, their eyes reflecting the sparkling light illuminating his back. Soon the cheers died down and as the audience waited for him to speak, an obvious symbol of change some shouted, Mr. Elims prepared himself in silent meditation.

"We live in such a beautiful country!"

"YES!"

"We live in such a fine beautiful country

"YES!"

"But... it's being polluted!"

"YES!"

"These fat politicians want you to think you can do nothing! They want you to just roll over and play nice!"

"NO!"

"But I'm telling you we can do something!"

"YES!"

"I TRULY believe we can make this country great again!"

"YES!"

"We can change this country together!!"

"YES!"

"Together we will change this country!!!"

"YES!!"

"Lets get rid of all these stale old ideas!!"

"YES!!"

"CHANGE! CHANGE! CHANGE!"

"E-LIMS!!! E-LIMS!!! E-LIMS!!!"

With a wave of his hands, smiling big and proud, he accepted their applause and the women in the audience turned to their friends, "he really has a nice smile doesn't he?"

"My it is such a nice smile."

"Makes me think we can really change!"

"He's so hopeful. We him we can!!"

"But he's so young!"

And then the men in the audience turned to their wives, "that's why he's not like them!"

"Nope, he's different!"

"I can't believe how he wants to change everything."

"Truly amazing!"

"He's the greatest!

"No one better!"

"CHANGE! CHANGE! CHANGE!"

"Yes, he's the one!"

The Big Climb

Mrs. Conti

Perhaps, there is a part of the brain, that switches off when faced with horror and things so appalling, we stare in disbelief. I believe there exists another part, equally weighted and full of compassion, and within that most human of places a cause for action, a reason to persevere, a calling to the line. I've seen that line and along it's corridors, the narrow passings filled with those who wait and wonder when their time will come. I've heard the chimes of others, proclaiming overwhelming excitement for situations so grim, thereby implying natural talent for the cause and missing what it means to be a witness. I sit and boil over such comments, because human suffering is not exciting, because a human being should never be reduced to a wristband, because this place is full of such great hope and crushing personal tragedy we cannot afford to lose our humanity within it. These emotions are said to fade, I'm told, but if they do what will take their place? From where will come a friendly hand to rest upon a nervous shoulder or gently sweap a fallen hair behind, or from where will come a simple human question from one being to another and sometimes, against all odds, court a smile back in reply?

The Donkey's Apple

No matter how old I get, I fear, I will always be that young nervous wreck, awkward pauses, stumbling half thoughts, quarter of a smile, some would say just a grin. My two left feet are prone to misteps, especially around a pretty lady, particularly around that pretty lady.

But wait, what would life be without motivation! Because it seems these things provide the grist for action, get my heart pumping, provide answers when all else seems meaningless, and yet, at others times just the opposite, make me nearsighted and petty. I think, but it's hard to know, I ponder these things because there are two sides to every heart and they, consistently at war, say all sorts of things to get their ways.