The Grand Scheme of Things

A few years ago, on the way back from Christmas in Kansas with the family, my sister, Jessie, and I became stranded in the Atlanta Airport. We arrived seconds too late to the gate of our connecting flight, as the airport personnel had already closed the doors. Jessie and I were tired and irritated, especially after we were told that the flight was the last departing flight of the night. We were directed to talk to the people at the Delta Airlines counter, and reluctantly, cursing airports the entire time, we left the terminal and went through security to the front of the massive airport. The aggravation of the night was only beginning. And we realized this when we caught a glimpse of the mile long line in front of the Delta ticket counter. With the clock hovering right around midnight, small stomach rumbles of impending hunger, and the hint of a slight pressure radiating along my temples and behind my eyes, Jessie and I huffed and puffed our way to the back of the line. It inched forward every ten minutes, and we would slap our carry-ons acrossed our backs lazily. A foot of a distance was the most we received. We'd drop our bags and stand with arms folded, noticeably aggravated, or drop tiredly to the floor and sit Indian style on top of our luggage. After a solid two hours, we'd made it to the middle of the line. By this point, I was miserable. Jessie and I were both hungry, the headache was almost unbearable, and my cell phone needed immediate life support. As I slouched there on the floor, on top of my bag, I thought about how much I wanted to be at home in my bed. I thought about how horribly ridiculous this my situation was. Shouldn't they have more people up there taking care of this stuff. I can't WAIT to call and complain. I better get a free airline ticket out of this. Due to boredom, and the fact that I needed something to focus to avoid a sleep-deprived comatose state, I started listening to the chatter of two men in front of me. I'd overheard earlier that one of the men, about my age, was leaving to backpack across Europe. He'd planned for months, but now all of his flights had to be re booked.
Great job Delta.
This time the other man was speaking. This man was older, probably in his 60's, with grey hair, glasses, and kind, tired eyes. I listened as he told the younger boy about his situation. He was enjoying a nice Christmas in Arkansas with his children, wife, and his wife's family. Unfortunately, a few days before Christmas he received news that a good friend had passed away back home in Florida. Upon hearing this, he decided to travel home a few days earlier than his family in order to be in attendance at the funeral. "The funeral", he said, "is today at nine o'clock." He glanced at his watch; it was nearly three already. Now that is sad I thought. This man left his family the day after Christmas, in mourning, to attend a funeral of a good friend and now, more than likely, at nine o'clock that morning he'd be hunched over a cup of coffee in an uncomfortable airport seat, thousands of miles away from either two places he should be.
Delta gets a blue ribbon for the day.
The next thing this man said is permanently etched into my mind. After looking up from his watch, he glanced around at the people surrounding him, then turned and smiled at the boy next to him and said, "Ya know, in the grand scheme of things, this doesn't really matter." (Cue snare and trumpets)
This anonymous old man, standing in line at the Delta ticket counter in the Atlanta airport at three o'clock in the morning, who had every right to be a hostile customer, gave me one of the best (and most simple) pieces of advice I have ever received.
In the grand scheme of things, it doesn't really matter.
Sometimes things happen. A lot of the times, these things suck. You get a speeding ticket. You lose a job. You fail a test. You miss a flight. You suffer from a broken heart. These things are called life. Life happens; that's inevitable. What isn't inevitable, however; is the attitude in which we deal with such situations. We can chose to be hostile, rude, and arrogant when a police officer hands us a speeding ticket. We can chose to be depressed, disappointed, and lonely when a loved one breaks our heart. Or we can chose to recognize our situation, count our blessings, and realize just how lucky a lot of us are. We can put our lives into perspective, pick up our pieces after we fall, and keep on keepin' on.

So in the grand scheme of things, what does really matter?
Well, I guess we'll save that for another blog.

~Cheers
A.

Birthday

I've never really had a strong desire to blog. Maybe thats because of the name "blog". Where did that name come from? It sounds like a fungus, or an amoeba, or something left inside a kleenex after you blow your nose. I've never really had a strong desire to blog. Until recently.
Honestly and simply, life is a game. You win some, you lose some, and eventually you die. Lately, I've been wondering if there is anything in between: between the losing, between the winning, and before the dying. I'm speaking about the little things like happiness, joy, self-gratitude, compassion, tolerance, and true love. Surely those things exist in a person's life. The question is but where to find them? And where to find them in their truest form?
As children, we are sent to teachers to answer our questions. Teachers put things into perspective, they make sense of the nonsense, and they leave behind a mark of wisdom on everything they touch. What better way to explore the "in between" of life than to ask a teacher? A teacher whose already trampled across the battlefield, pulled their sword, and won a thousand wars. (This is where the "old people" come into play.)
The purpose of this blog (and all blogs within this blog hereafter) is to disect the "in between" of  life by disecting the minds of old people. These people have seen it all, more than likely done it all, and many of them are waiting on the opportunity to talk about it; talk about their experiences with someone who will truely listen, and take their stories to heart. They have loved and lost, cried and hurt, and survived sickness and curiosity.
People spend so much time searching for the answers; the secrets to the universe, the secrets to happiness, the secrets to true love, self-content, peace, and wisdom. But, I believe the truth is, these answers are sitting very close to us: in the car in front of you driving ten miles per hour below the speed limit, in the corner booth of the cafe, sipping black coffee and reading the paper. Answers come with experience, who has better experience than old people?