Confessions of a Happy Victim

Years ago, I had the privilege of meeting a happy victim of a natural disaster.

He was a middleaged man.  He was tall.  He was White.  He was standing in line at the gas station, buying a microwave sandwich and a soda.  At his side was a sleeping bag roll and he wore a camper's back pack.  Most of all, he was clean cut and didn't have "that homeless smell."

(Yes, I know were were taught not to judge a book by its cover.  After all, I live in a state that has produced some of the world's more attractive serial killers.)

     "Where are you headed?" I asked.

     "Jacksonville" he said.

     "Where are you from?"

     "Nawlins!" he said with a smile.

New Orleans.  A week earlier, Katrina had submerged the Lower Ninth Ward.  As I stood in line - speechless - my mind reeled with the images of bloated bodies, rooftop survivors and legions of souls abandoned in the Superdome.  I was ready for yet another homily on the horrors of a yet another earthly Hell, but the man interrupted me.

     "But it's okay" he added.  "You see, now that our kids are grown and gone, my wife decided to divorce me.  I had just signed the house over to her when three days later, the flood came.  I lost it all, except the one thing that mattered."

     "Your ex-wife?"

     "Heck nah!  My DOG!"

I tried not to laugh.

     "My ex wife?  Oh, she's fine.  She had already gone to her sister's.  She was kind of hoping I'd stay round, but I told her I had to go.  I was extra  nice to her.  I told her she could have my truck.  It's only under ten feet of water.  Anyway, a buddy of mine owns a construction company.  Said he couldn't come get me, but if I could get to Jacksonville I'd have a job and a place to stay.  I left my dog with a cousin, said I'd come get him later.  Then I started walking."

Normally I don't pick up hitchhikers (remember, the serial killers?), but I offered him a ride in my truck.  I dropped him off at the edge of town next to the Interstate and went on my way.  I never saw him again, but I am sure that he was happy, whether he made it to Jacksonville or not.

There is always something to be admired in people who turn away from tragedy and take the next step toward Hope, which like the Sun always rises with each New Day.

Always B Positive!

Happy UN-Niversary!

Today is the one year anniversary of the BP oil rig explosion, when 11 people lost their lives.  In addition to their tragic deaths, there have been billions of dollars of lost revenue from industries such as fishing, tourism, restaurants, etc.  Add to that the ongoing malaise from the poor economy, and you can see that it hasn't been a good year on the Gulf Coast.

My own life hasn't been too stellar.  No need to dump personal problems on a public board, but I've seen better days.  It all might be overwhelming.

But then I remembered:  We were born for adversity.  It's a human thing.  Also, most of the greatest achievements in history have come about through suffering.  So as I look out over the minefields of my own life and the challenges faced by others, I think I understand the one thing that distinguishes those who persevere from those who don't:  People who persist don't celebrate bad anniversaries.

Sure, they celebrate the good things.  They also remember events in history.  We must never forget Pearl Harbor, 9/11, the Oklahoma City bombing (yesterday's anniversary, April 19, 1995) and other dates.  But once we remember, what do we do?  Do we keep wallowing in the past?  Or do we use that as a springboard to create the future we want?

I don't know about you.  But for the truly bad events, I'll treat them as UN-Niversaries:  The days when I restart, rebuild, recreate, rediscover and rejoice in the future.

Happy UN-Niverary to you!

Always B Positively Positive!