Look a little harder

You look around this world and see so much.  Before your eyes cross all the images on the National News–the latest brawl, the beaten schoolgirl, the warring politicians.  You walk down the street, your feet kicking up dust that settles on empty beer bottles and candy wrappers.  You go to school and see the kid everyone is teasing.  Later you may watch the cops escort him to Juvie.  You walk out of the dressing room at your favorite department store in time to hear the alarm go off and security as a customer to empty her bag.  You scan movie listings at the theater and realize our entertainment has evolved into nothing more than a contest between various religions and atheists trying to out-do each other. 

You’re ready to give up hope.  Armstrong was nothing more than a dreamer when he claimed that it was a wonderful world.  What he found so great has obviously evaporated and gone extinct.  The sun sets on your bleak image of the human race. 

Then it rises again.

You roll out of bed and start out your day with a walk.  You see a group of men with trash bags picking up the bottles in the ditch.  You smile;  it’s a good way to begin another day.

At school one of the girls on the varsity basketball team passes by her friends’ table at lunch and eats with the shy outcast.

The store forgot to take the ink tag off your shirt yesterday.  You take it back, but on your way inside notice a young boy gazing at the baseball gloves displayed on a manikin.

“Looks pretty cool, doesn’t it?”  you ask him.

“Oh ya,” he replies.  “It has Sammy Sosa’s autograph!”

You ask if he’s going to get it, but he sadly shakes his head.  “I don’t have that much money in my allowance,” is his explanation. 

You think of yesterday, then compare it to this morning’s cleaning group and the basketball star.  Taking a deep breath, you make a decision.

“Here kid,” you slip him a twenty and laugh at the way his eyes sparkle and dance.  He thanks you profusely, but you shrug it off.  “Just make sure I get front row tickets to a home game when you become famous.”

Then, despite earlier reservations, you go watch Horton Hears a Who and laugh heartily, as the show takes you way back in life. 

It’s now dusk, and you close your day with a walk in the park.  You watch a teenager push a little boy on the swings, two girls laugh on the teeter-totter, several kids line up behind the slide and one middle-school aged young lady do cartwheels across the lawn.

Grinning, you head home and get ready for bed and you think to yourself, “What a wonderful world!”

 

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