PERSPECTIVE
This weeks column is inspired by "Jimbo from Woburn", one of the more prolific writers at the "Forum" here at the KFNH website. He reminds me from time to time to take a "glass-half-full" attitude when considering the ups and downs of life. This got me thinking the other night, as I sat on my bench which is right beside our garden. This is the spot where, during summer and fall, almost nightly I spend a few moments star-gazing. This time of year, when the nights are cool and the air is dry, the night-sky takes on an entirely different look. You can see the Milky Way Galaxy and many more stars than on humid nights. This night-sky viewing is something that has attracted me since childhood, when my friends and I would lay in the field beside the house where I grew up, chew on a piece of grass, laugh and giggle, and watch for shooting stars. Oddly, this very activity epitomizes "perspective". Nothing on earth puts your own problems into perspective more than contemplating the infinity of space.
So all of this got me thinking about "perspective" and I thought I would relate that word, or concept if you prefer, into a couple of little mini-columns, just random thoughts, really. The first example of differing perspectives is in plain view during this presidential campaign. In the wake of the conventions, it is interesting how very different our collective population sees things. The divisiveness we all are witness to, indicates how far apart many of us are in our opinions about what is best for the country. How could our perspectives be so far apart? I suppose one's economic station may have something to do with it. If you're loaded, it may be hard to relate to the financial hardships so many of us are falling prey to. If you're short on American History, then a lot of the foreign policy stuff may be hard to grasp. On the other hand, the upcoming anniversary of September 11th, 2001, may provide a memory-jog. Still, it is interesting that it is mostly differing viewpoints, life experiences that shape our opinions. Different perspectives.
Another thought that floated through my tiny brain as I sat, head back and eyes trained upward, was the recent hurricane that struck Louisiana once again, with yet another threatening this unfortunate urban basin once again. I was thinking about how numb I have become to the "disaster footage" that we are all so used to seeing. Heck, we had a tornado right here in New Hampshire just a month or so ago. I replayed the aerial footage in my head, and thought about the thousands of those video clips that I have seen. From tornado alley to the wildfires in California, we are just plain accustomed to it. Then, with a little help from the Big Dipper, I thought more about what it must be like to suffer from a natural disaster, to have your home wiped away. All we ever hear about is the dollar amount and how long it will take to rebuild and whether or not the Fed's have declared it a "disaster area" yet. I thought about what it would be like to return to my home and see nothing but a pile of kindling. To see my children's toys and clothing spread around the neighborhood. Family pictures and personal treasures gone forever. The rooms where we loved, where we read quietly to our kids, where we took solace and comfort when it was cold and snowing. In short, our home. I complain when I can't find the remote for the television, now I'm thinking about what it must be like when you can't find your house, never mind your TV or remote. Thinking about it in those terms, from a different perspective, added new gravity to it. When you see those sweeping videos of mile after mile, block after block, town after town, laid to rubble, I understand the infinite emotional cost that can never be tallied or reimbursed.
A few weeks ago I took an old friend flying with his two young boys. None of the three of them had ever been in an airplane. Not any kind of airplane. That may sound unreal, but there a lot of working class folks up here, Yankees, who have never had any particular desire to travel beyond any place they could drive to. My friend, a New Hampshire native who worked for me years ago, was astounded at the forest and rolling hills. The area we live in which seems so over-developed from the ground, as though we're running out of room, looks absolutely desolate from the air. We flew for nearly two hours, up into Vermont and back, landing at Keene so his kids could have a turn in the front seat. See, it's a different perspective from up front, when you can see ahead of the airplane as opposed to simply off to your side. And certainly, my friend found out about perspective, as he remarked continually at his amazement at the wilderness we live amongst. Beautiful wilderness, at that.
Finally, this contemplation of "perspective" led me to my young kids. As adults in a harried life, it is sometimes hard to muster the patience you constantly need at your disposal when raising children. Just this afternoon, my son Mitchell found a personal-size container of "Dippin' Dots" in the freezer. These are those little ice cream balls that look like some kind of packing material. Our little girl, Marlena, was adamant about having some of these. Mitchell was equally adamant about not giving any up. I got her a small bowl and appealed to Mitch's giving spirit. He gave up what I would approximate at around 1/2 a teaspoon of his "dots", not an overly generous donation. Marlena inhaled these and held out her bowl, like Oliver in the Charles Dickens story. Again, a smaller 1/2 teaspoon was dispensed under protest. This went on in repeat cycles until the dots were gone. I was taking deep breaths in and out of a paper bag through the whole ordeal. As the only adult in the room, I was thinking to myself how deeply I wished that this would be all I had to worry about, getting my fair share of the last serving of Dippin' Dots. Then I realized, it's all a matter of perspective. In their little-kid-world, this was the equivalent of arms-negotiations between super-powers. After a little thought, I was glad that this was all they had to worry about. After all, they will grow and mature, and even their perspective will change when, someday, they are negotiating with their own children.
Karl From New Hampshire