Lessons I've Learned from "Peanuts"

      I have always been a huge fan of the  Peanut’s comic strip. But while everyone in the world seems to be enthralled by Snoopy, my favorite character is Lucy. She is referred to as crabby, but that is just code: Lucy is a bitch. And she embraces her “crabbiness.” I can relate.

             
              As early as I can remember, I too was a ‘crabby’ kid. I’ve grown into a crabby adult. Which doesn’t mean that  I don’t know that I am lucky – really lucky - I do. I have a fantastic  urban family, pretty cool actual relatives and I don’t live in Sierra Leone or Syria.

             
             But still I complain. All the time.  Poor, poor me.  Cue the violins. My property taxes are due. (Which means I own a home.) I can’t afford to upgrade my Iphone. (I  have a phone.) My vet bills are exorbitant. (But the dog and the cat got better.) My car needs work. (I have a car.) On and on I go. Sometimes I even disgust myself.

            
           For a little while there was something going around the internet called five days of gratitude.  If you were tagged, for five days you were supposed to list three things you were grateful for.  Unlike the Ice Bucket Challenge for ALS, it didn’t catch on. It just wasn’t as entertaining as watching people you know freeze their tushies off.

            
          Obviously, I’m not a Pollyanna, and I don’t want to be the kind of smarmy person that always goes around saying ‘count your blessings.’ I hate that person and want to smack them in the nose. Hard.

             
         However, I think those of us who are lucky enough to get hysterical about Ebola even though the likelihood of catching it is nearly nill, need to get a grip.  Get a flu shot instead—52,000 Americans die of that. And stop watching CNN.  And Fox “News.” Never, ever, watch Fox.

            
          I personally had a wake up call last week. I was having a bad day – I can’t even remember what I thought was so important, but it seemed critical at the time. Maybe Trader Joe’s was out of Smores or something. It doesn’t matter.

             
         Then I got a phone call. Actually, I missed a call from one of my sisters-from-another-mother. She’s going through a particularly bad time right now.  Naturally I panicked, since I come from a crazy family that always assumes the worst. So I immediately called her back just slightly hysterically.

            
         This time my overreaction was on sadly on target. Her sister – who is a sustaining member of my urban family –  had a biopsy come back badly. Now, we all had known about the possibility, but my friend and I – and her sister – are of the school of thought that,  a) there’s no point in worrying until you have to and,  b) the biopsy couldn’t possibly come positive. But it had.  We were broadsided.

             
         When stuff like this happens to people you love, there are a couple of options for how you react.  You can wail and carry on about how the bad stuff only happens to you. Or you can dig in and support your friends.

        I lied. That’s the only answer. You take a deep breath, cry if that’s your way, and carry on. You can allow yourself a limited – very limited – time to feel sorry for yourself.  Then you say, “what can I do to help,” and then listen to the answer. Most of the time all you can do is listen. And that’s important.

          You also keep on doing whatever it is you’re doing, and help your friends do the same. Curling into a fetal ball doesn’t really help anyone. Because it isn’t about you.  That’s really important to remember.

             
           None of the little annoyances are about you either. It’s just freaking life.

             
         Sometimes things seem to go all your way. It’s sure easy to look at other people and think they lead charmed lives. But nobody’s life is perfect. Some people just fake it better than others.

            
          Everybody makes concessions. That stay-at-home wife with the big house the sports car and the diamonds: Could you put up with her husband? Or the guy with the trophy wife, the dream job and the yacht? He never has time or energy to enjoy the boat and his wife is as dumb as a rock. Etc.

           
          Being aware that you’re lucky doesn’t mean that you can’t want more. That’s just human nature. You just can’t freaking bitch about it all the time. Me included.

        Which doesn’t mean I’m giving up complaining for Halloween. I’m just going to try to temper my inner Lucy with a little Linus.