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Dear Mr. Hippo,
I am very sorry I dropped you on the floor last night, breaking your ear off in the process. I SAID, “I AM SORRY ABOUT YOUR EAR!”
I accept full responsibility for this tragedy. Even though Mandy asked me to pick you up from your safe perch on the coffee table and even though I clearly placed you in her hand, I should not have listened to her. This is a lot like when we were in traffic yesterday, and she advised me to drive straight ahead even though I knew where I was going. What was I thinking? I was in control, I had a choice to make, and I made the wrong one. Strike one.
I knew you were safer on the table, but I pushed the edge of reason and now you must pay the price for my bad judgment. Strike two.
Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa…I am very sorry.
Perhaps it will cheer you to consider that your ears are not your most prominent feature. Indeed, your overall roundness offers the greatest appeal, and despite your newfound hearing impairment, your roundness retains all its glory.
As a small token, I’ve drawn a picture of you from memory. This is how you looked when you first arrived home. You have two ears in this photo and in my memory. As long as we still remember what your ear looked like, it is not really gone. Plus, there is still hope that we’ll find your missing ear (that is not really gone at all) when we sweep under the couch.
Mandy says that your eyes are too sad in my drawing, but I’ve stopped listening to her for one week in honor of your ear. Eventually, I may explain to her about the sadness a lost ear must bring and how that sadness must certainly be reflected most noticeably in your eyes. Of course, she is not a hippo and doesn’t understand you as I do, so perhaps we should give her a break on that.
In closing, please let me assure you, there won’t be a strike three. I’ve placed you on the mantle over the fireplace, safe from stubby little fingers that don’t properly grasp delicate-eared carvings. You will be safe as long as the heat from the fire doesn’t negatively impact your tagua nut constitution, and since it is almost spring you really shouldn’t worry yourself about that.
Apologetically yours,
Steve
Consider the idea of walking to Chattanooga as a way of coming to grips with the on-again-off-again enthusiasm we experience in our days. As long as we focus on just walking, we are usually pretty happy. Walking isn’t hard, it can be great exercise, and when the elements cooperate, you can really begin to enjoy the experience. But when you look ahead at the distance remaining, watching as the road stretches out into the future, it is easy to be overwhelmed.
So what is the difference between happy and overwhelmed? Perspective. If we pay attention to today, we tend to realize the beauty of life. We enjoy friends and family. We like our work. We are content. But if we stop to think, sometimes we begin to feel our contentment slip—just a little bit.
How will we ever hold up under the strain of so much to do? How will we persevere? From whence shall come our strength?
As I think back over my life, I marvel at all the worries I’ve had. I’ve worried over promotions and employment. I’ve worried over relationships and possessions. I’ve wanted cars that I later purchased and have since sold. All the energy I invested in those concerns was for nothing. In hindsight, none of the potential problems I envisioned were showstoppers for me. I’ve always landed on my feet, and I’m still here today.
I think there is a lesson in these memories: Most of our worrying is for nothing. If we would just pay attention and do our best in the moment, tomorrow will take care of itself. It always has for me, and I suspect if you’re reading this, it always has for you as well.
Let’s count a few of the blessings we are enjoying in our lives right this minute: We have access to electricity and a computer, we have each other for encouragement and friendship, and we have free time to ponder the meaning of life. Honestly, I think we’re doing pretty well. Don’t you?
I invite you to join me on my walk to Chattanooga, but I ask that you savor the moment as we walk. If we just keep enjoying the day and doing what we do, we’ll get there soon enough, and we’ll be together when we arrive. For what more could we ask?
Sincerely,
Mister Hippo
Tell me again how it will be when the globe begins to warm. Will the temperatures actually be warmer? How will we know it is warmer? Will someone tell us? Will the snow be less wet? When it snows in April in Tennessee, will it melt quicker than it did back when April was considered a time of new growth and warm days? How will we tolerate the heat?
And how will we measure the increase in temperatures over time? Will we have a thousand years of global data against which to conduct our analyses of our climate? Or will we take a small sampling of the overall climate history of earth (ignoring the possibility for natural fluctuations that might seem to make perfect sense if we thought about them) to extrapolate sky-is-falling scenarios and scare ourselves into compliance with ever-more-rigid rules about carbon emissions? And will our purchase of the promise of a new tree somewhere in the world drive down the temperatures, so we can have wet snow again in Tennessee? How will we know our trees have been planted and when will they be big enough to save us from a cataclysmic ball of fiery dry snow? If we can get someone to drive an electric car on our behalf will our jet-setting junkets be okay again? Will higher taxes on gasoline help by forcing people to stay home and shop via the internet? Will people in rural areas like Tennessee, who don’t have ready access to stimulus funds (like Los Angeles residents who will soon gain mass transit to Los Vegas), be able to see the importance of buying expensive battery-powered cars before it is too late? What if they can’t afford them? Will they be able to afford new jobs closer to home that don’t pay as much? Will Weigel’s clerk jobs be enough for them to enjoy the new American dream of wet snow all year? Why must people selfishly and cavalierly sacrifice our chance for wet snow just so they can earn enough money to life a comfortable life? Do they think they are political activists or politicians? Don’t they realize that important people’s comfort is worth the price and doesn’t really matter that much, but if all the little people are comfortable, too, well that is just too many comfortable people? Don’t they realize it is their patriotic duty to sacrifice so that others will not have to sacrifice?
Tell me again how it will be when we’ve altered our lifestyles. Will we all drive really small cars? Will there be sidewalks and bike lanes in Tennessee? And will some of the block grant highway funds be redirected to the development of these lanes? Will there be wet snow again then? Oh, how I miss wet snow! Will people still have jobs or will costs of transportation increase to the point where it is too expensive to hire employees? How will businesses be able to sell things when the price is so high due to shipping and so many jobs are lost in a spiral of national job losses? Who will have money for these products that cost so much to ship? Will the Weigel’s clerks just suddenly earn more money? And what will the Slushees cost then? What about the Milk Duds? If they’re too expensive for customers to buy a whole box, will they sell just one or two duds at a time? (I sure hope so).
Tell me again how it will be. Will we trust our politicians to do the right thing? Will we be content with our small cars and our expensive economy and our low paying jobs? Will the wet snow be worth it?
Sincerely,
Mister Hippo
The world of a hippo is cool to the touch,
We eat lots of grasses and garbage and such.
Our stove we don’t use cause our feet are so big
We can’t turn the dials with the hands of a pig.
Cold grub, therefore, is the fare of our way,
Unless we score road kill what’s warmed by the day.
Cool and mature but not cold, old, or addled,
We type our opinions; we’re seldom too rattled.
A hippo is solitary, but loves his friends, too.
Quick with a nod for his buddies like you.
Thank you for visiting; I thank you again.
I’m nodding right now, not just dipping my chin.
Sincerely,
Mister Hippo
I’m reminded today of a story from my youth.
My uncle, my father, and I needed a new pig, so we went to a man’s house. He was a one-armed man with a big mouth. I remember the big mouth part because it was also dark outside and he carried a full-size D-cell flashlight in his mouth while catching the piglet and putting it in burlap sack. It was rather impressive.
We bought that pig and brought it home–the proverbial pig in a poke. I had no idea what it looked like until the following sunrise, and to be honest, I found it rather porcine in the light of day, but my uncle seemed happy with it.
That piglet quickly grew into a boar hog, and we didn’t castrate him as early as would have been wise. Eventually, he weighed a couple hundred pounds and he was fighting with the other boar hogs. This could not be allowed to continue or we’d be forced to eat bacon sooner than we planned. Even in the 70s, we knew that bacon was not good for you, and heart disease runs in our family. (My dad outsmarted heart disease by eating bird food for most of his life, so Alzheimer’s got him instead.)
One Saturday morning, our neighbor came to visit with a knife and a can of kerosene. Those of you who have never lived on a farm should perhaps stop reading now since the story could cause squeamishness, I suppose.
The way you solve the problem of hormonal male aggression in boars is to castrate them. As near as I can recall all these years later, this involved an incision, some gouging around with a finger or two, and some indiscriminate yanking of internal parts found. The kerosene is used to sanitize everything, which might also explain why you rarely see a castrated boar smoking a cigarette.
For those who are wondering about the pig’s attitude during the incident, I’ll just say, he did not appear to be happy. There were four of us assigned to limb management. I had the back left leg, which I believe I was assigned to afford me a better view of the operation. Unfortunately, that is also one of the wiggly/jerky limbs.
I suppose I may hear from a few animal rights activists over this story, and I apologize that the world is hard on pigs. I hope I haven’t ruined bacon for anyone–unless you were seeking motivation to get bacon out of your diet anyway.
Personally, I like bacon. My family history and propensity for heart disease can’t stop that. It’s hereditary!
Sincerely,
Mister Hippo
Let us turn our thoughts to matters beyond our usual banter about headcounts and pin proliferation. Certainly, those are topics worthy of hand wringing and consternation, but our membership has passed the half century mark in three days, so it should be safe to temporarily divert our attention to matters beyond recruitment. Today, we have other thoughts to vent…er…share.
Let’s consider confrontation versus avoidance as a method for living our lives.
The tendency to avoid personal challenges may be a side effect of polite society, and I will admit the tactic is often appealing, but in most cases it is not helpful. Let’s all say this together (remember to use your chanty, robot voice):
“Avoidance is not helpful.”
Indeed it is not helpful at all. Mostly because it tends to alienate people from one another over small–often unintended–insults. Since relationships are tenuous at best, it is a shame that people can be so willing to jettison them rather than invest a little energy in maintenance. At the root of this are two problems: 1) avoiding confrontation appears to be the path of least resistance, and 2) holding a grudge is rather easier than forgiving for most if not all of us.
To the first point…
The path of least resistance meanders past the house where avoidance lives, but avoidance can be an unhappy person, ruminating on rump-roiling rejections long past. All too often the unhappiness of pent up emotion spreads as it overflows a hardened human heart, touching and tarnishing the lives of others as it flows.
I understand the temptation to avoid. Indeed, what man or hippo is anxious for an argument over the last donut, or who will fight over a slight so subtle it seems to offer no opportunity for retort?
But avoidance is not done without a cost, and this is where we come to our second point about grudge holding. Confront and get right with the other person to move on with your relationship and your life. It takes effort to be mad at someone, and if they don’t even know you’re mad, what is the point? Avoid a quick conversation and you may seethe for days, months, or years. Since seething is not good for your relationships, your attitude, or your health, I can’t see an upside to this approach.
When smugness and smarminess overtake me, I have been known to deliver my own share of slights, but mostly these have been inadvertent. I try to be nice, but my “hipponess” just gets in the way. I can’t seem to shake my basic nature. Sometimes, I am just oblivious to others, and I don’t even realize it when they are upset.
Recently, it has come to my attention that someone has been upset with me and has avoided me for the past couple of years. I honestly had no idea that we weren’t the best of friends. This saddens me so much. I wish I could have apologized long ago. I’m not too big a hippo to apologize to save a friendship, but I was not given that opportunity because of avoidance. And our friendship apparently has suffered because of a grudge. How terribly sad…
As I like to do, I turned to the Bible for some insight on how to handle these things.
I quickly found Exodus 21:23-24 since it is near the front:
“If any harm follows, then you shall give life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand…”
I suppose the person who holds a grudge might take that “eye for an eye” thing a too bit far. I like Matthew 5:38-39 much better:
“You have heard that it was said, ‘Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.’ But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also.”
Jesus does not advocate trying to get even, and neither do I. There is no way to get satisfaction from revenge anyway. I know because I’ve tried, and it didn’t work. Here is another verse I really wish I could follow all the time. This is Matthew 18:15:
“If your brother sins against you, go and show him his fault, just between the two of you. If he listens to you, you have won your brother over.”
That feels like an anti-avoidance instruction to me! And I found one last verse. This one talks about forgiveness. Here is Luke 6:37:
“Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven”
I can’t add anything to that. Whether you believe the bible is the inspired word of God, a bunch of time-honored lessons for our lives, or just a bunch of gibberish, it is hard to argue with the value these verses could produce if we would just live by them.
Thank you for reading along with me today.
Sincerely,
Mister Hippo
