No kick coming

First let me say that we are all, from time to time, guilty of this. I more than anyone, probably. And I feel bad about it right now more than usual, because of the perspective that the Haitian nightmares lend to it.

I'm talking about complaining. I and all of us tend to do too much of it. Now, I happen to love my job and everything about it, and heaven knows I am head over heels about Peggy. I love my house, my truck, many members of my family (just kiiiiddddding!!!) and, honestly, most every aspect of my life. You will hear me grumbling about ignorance, pain, insensitivity, and Sean Hannity, to be redundant.

But we all take our turns at bat in the game. Whaaa, I have to go to work. Booo, they didn't have the right kind of cinnamon sprinkles at JoJo Starbuck's. Hooo, that nasty cop gave me a ticket for going 85 mph in a school zone.

I look at the Haitian people night after night, and they would give anything - and most already have - for a drink of water, even if it were warm. They wouldn't gripe at all if offered a baloney sandwich on Holsum white bread. They would love to find their kinfolk, their lives, their futures, in the rubble of what once was their world.

I'd like to suggest that we challenge ourselves to go a full day - 24 hours - during which, any time we are tempted to carp about our situation, we would say, "If I were a resident of Haiti's earthquake zone, would this be enough to move me to griping?"

I'm going to try, today and every day. Let's see how we do.