There are those who would say I need to practice a bit of optimism.
But, even though I’m not an optimist, I do have a positive attitude. For example, I’m very positive that whatever can go wrong will go wrong; I’m quite sure that every cloud bringing an F5 tornado has a silver lining – all clouds do when back-lit by the sun; I’m quite positive that every drop of rain that falls increases your chances of getting a head cold if you’re not wearing a hat; and I am quite positive that this winter will eventually come to an end, merging into a summer that will be hot, dry, and wind-blown.
Many have called me a pessimist, but this is not an accurate assessment. A pessimist irrationally expects the worse in every situation. I don’t irrationally expect that the worse will happen - I logically expect the worse will happen. I mean, statistically, at least 80 percent of all the events happening to you have a neutral affect while the remaining 20 percent have either a positive affect or a negative affect. So, through the course of a normal day, there is only a 10 percent chance that things will go your way, while there is a 90 percent chance you are being carried to hell in a hand basket at the pace of a casual stroll with an occasionally bus ride to the next corner.
That’s real life, my friend. And that is the essence of my life’s philosophy. I am a realist. I see things as they are and live life accordingly.
As William Shatner once sang (yes, he sang – google it), “LIVE LIFE LIKE YOU’RE GONNA DIE, ‘CAUSE YOU’RE GONNA.”
The realist idea is to expect the expected and expect the expected to be pretty bad.
Then there is Pam, or “Nana” as she calls herself these days, who insists that she is an optimist. I’ve tried to get her to see the error of this philosophy, but she has been ornery about it and has defiantly resisted all efforts to reason with her. If she thought about it, she would realize that she is not really an optimist, she’s just a happy pleasant person.
So, here I am, stuck in this perpetual winter in the middle of Oklahoma, and I come home every day after a hard day’s work to a woman who greets me with a kiss and hug and a warm smile and a hot supper.
It’s enough to make me wonder what she’s up to.
Pam loves watching the birds. She spends a small fortune every winter feeding the little winged varmints so they’re strong enough to invade the garden every summer.
The word about Pam’s generosity with the bird seed has spread throughout the avian world, so from around the country we have all types of birds visiting our little property. One of Pam’s favorites is the bluebird.
Pam, being the happy pleasant person she is, loves to see the bluebird of happiness. To her, the bluebird of happiness is a sign of better things on the horizon.
OK, I’ll grant that we are visited by the bluebird of happiness. But, we really can’t ignore all the other birds visiting this winter, such as:
the red bird of anger,
the black bird of despondency,
the mockingbird of derision.
And if this winter doesn’t end soon,
I fully expect to see a tern for the worse.
Nope, I’m not a pessimist, but I’m real close to taking it up as a hobby.
