Patience

I have often heard that patience is a virtue, it's more like a way of life. For some reason I have been blessed with a level of patience that rivals most. Most issues that would drive people to the brink of insanity barely faze me. People who chat it up at teller windows, long lines at supermarkets, people with numerous questions at an H&R Block seminar, school plays that run long because the kids cannot remember their lines, and traffic that is moving so slow you read the writing on beer cans clearly, rarely bother me. In the state of California, the only thing that rivals road rage is problems with MS-13 gangs. In the past five years 218 murders and 12,610 injuries have resulted in disputes behind the wheel. And in nearly half of those incidents someone brandished a weapon. A gun, a knife, or a hand grenade; take your pick. I can think of some things that might make me jerk out my Peacemaker and go to work, but busted taillights and little old ladies being Sunday drivers isn't on the list. Sometimes people just deserve a pass for being who they are.

People from California wanting to gain a little perspective should be required to drive in Florida for a few months. Their state flag should be two white knuckles on top of a steering wheel and a small portion of blue hair showing over the wheel. Jerry Seinfeld thinks old people who are on the highway should be allowed to drive a speed limit that coincides with their age. In his eyes, if a crusty old fart has reached the century mark he should be allowed to drive like his is negotiating the Autobahn. People who have lived through multiple world wars and is currently getting shafted by the Social Security administration should surely get a pass somewhere in life. Shouldn't they?

Inquisitive people might ask, just exactly what are people who are languishing in traffic in a hurry to get home to do? Do they just want to hurry and get home so they can prop their feet up to watch the almighty boob tube? I can save them the trouble of looking at the television guide channel. I can tell them exactly what is on; three different CSI shows, one from Miami, One Chicago, and the third in LA. There will also be a gardening show on PBS about rising tomatoes, one show that is located south of the Mason Dixon line that shows noodlin', muddin', and moon shinein. Plus, just about any other activity that ends in the letters IN. There will also be at least three highly overrated Tom Cruise movies that depend completely on special affects to sell tickets where everyone from stunt doubles to key grips are practicing Scientologists and speak of L Ron Hubbord as a deity.

It's interesting that most of us have very little understanding of the concept of time, yet we are all somehow still obsessed with it. I used the word concept in the last sentence because time is not concrete, you cannot point to it; most people would even struggle to explain it. Time causes us to be short with our fellow man because we are "late" for an appointment. The question of the day is, can we really be late anywhere we go if time doesn't really exist? This goes along the lines of saying that it's impossible to be lost if you don't care where you are. I rather enjoyed the approach my grandpa had with time, he would always keep the minute hand of his pocket watch on the half-hour and tell everyone he was (and I quote) "on God's time." This, of course meant that everywhere he went he was either a half-hour late or a half-hour early. But... it seems we have once again slipped into the realm of a blog entry for another time.