The site of the first crocus in late winter fills me with the same gladness no matter the time or place. The crocus reminds us all that the harsh realities of winter will soon be gone. We may receive another snow or two but none will last.
There's chatter in the press that:
"Men are four times as likely to kill themselves as women. What has gone wrong?"
I have no idea how scientific these claims are, only that they make good headlines and are the basis of Donald Trump's campaign of fear and loathing.
The old chestnut about the good old days has been around for a long time. Hard to say if it ever has been true. I look at the big picture and accept today's reliability of the internal combustion engine, the general availability of electricity, chemicals and pharmaceutical products, and just admit to myself that things aren't so bad. Yes, we are always one atom bomb or incurable virus away from armageddon. Yes, the stresses of today's world are made all too true by our media and their reporting on presidential candidates who are overly self-involved, often vain and selfish. This all can't take away from the fact that I saw my first crocus today while out walking my dog. Those two pleasures have been true and much more valuable to me, whether they have occurred while I was growing up in the suburbs or now while living in an outer borough of New York City.
I can't fix stupid but I can enjoy life's subtle pleasures.
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