Impermanent

“Everything arises and passes away” is how the Buddhists put it and, these days, it couldn’t be truer.

No longer is my beloved aftershave, Old Spice, being produced by Proctor and Gamble.

Tillamook Cheese seems to have changed the recipe of my favorite cheese, Extra Sharp White Cheddar, so that instead of being crumbly and sharp, it’s now waxy and bland.

Chrome Bags have discontinued making the Kursk, the shoe I have worn almost daily for probably two decades.

The software on the printers at school has stopped allowing you to customize the paper size when you scan a document, so the pages of books get cut off or are formatted weirdly.

My doctor doesn’t let you ask questions anymore during your annual check-up; you have to schedule a special consultation (and pay extra) for that.

And try to find an 8-speed rear hub for your bike that doesn’t sounds like angry bees when it freewheels; forget about it.

Of course, I should be equanimous about all this and not cling to or crave after what, by its very nature, is ephemeral.  I, too, am only here for a short time, all things considered, so why should I complain when everything else is subject to the same impermanent reality of all things?

But, fuck!  

What am I supposed to do now, after shaving?  How am I going to enjoy my mac n’ cheese anymore?  Do I have to go back to buying Chuck Taylors, even though they hurt my feet and don’t keep me warm and dry in the winter?

It just makes you want to hasten your own inevitable disappearance from this material realm, doesn’t it?  If all the things that make up everyday experience cease to be, why not cease to be oneself?

If I weren’t around to complain about the demise of my aftershave, cheese, shoes, etc., then I wouldn’t have anything to complain about, would I?

And this blog could disappear, as well.

Fortunate

Growing up, I always had a roof over my head and plenty to eat.  I even had my own room!

Neither of my parents were alcoholics and they never beat me, not even once. (Spankings don’t count.)

I had no serious childhood illnesses; the worst part of my healthcare experience was going to the dentist, but I always got a lollipop from him after my check-ups.

My grade school was fully-staffed and well-resourced.  We had gym class every few days; art at least once a week; French in seventh and eighth grade; algebra was painful for a 12 year-old, but better, I guess, than no algebra at all.  

There were bullies, sure, but no guns.

High school was hell, of course, but we read Marx and Mao in 11th grade Political Philosophy and The Great Gatsby and Great Expectations in English.

Rents were low enough and the job market plentiful enough that I was able to move to San Francisco as a 21 year-old and find work and an affordable apartment in less than a week.  There was an earthquake when I lived there, but it was very minor—just enough to spill cans from the shelves in the corner store and provide an excuse for getting drunk that evening.

I’ve never lived in a city that was being bombed.  Nor have I ever been homeless, neither for economic nor geopolitical reasons.

None of my family members have ever been murdered, tortured, or disappeared by the government or drug cartels.  I’ve never been shot, stabbed, tasered, or clobbered with a truncheon by the authorities.

There’s still money left in Social Security for me to start collecting benefits; it may not last through the rest of my life, but I’ve got a handful of years without worry.

I’ll die of something sooner or later, but at the moment, I’m still healthy and not in any significant pain.

It’s not all perfect, though: I am a Pittsburgh Pirates fan.

Responsible

 I do my job.  I pay my taxes.  I pick up my dog’s poop and dispose of it responsibly.  I clean up after myself.  

I wash the dishes.  I try to limit my carbon footprint.  I eat mainly locally-sourced food, all vegetarian.  I vote.  I show up for meetings and participate seriously.  I make the bed and hang up my clothes.  

I keep my yard presentable for the neighbors. I honor my promises and commitments.  I ensure that my bank balance is not overdrawn. 

I scrub the toilets. I don’t drive drunk (I hardly drive at all.)  I stay abreast of the news.  

I answer all my email within 24 hours.  I keep my car registration up to date.  I return my library books before they are due.  I tip well.  

I apologize sincerely when I’ve done something wrong. I reduce, reuse, and recycle. I direct deposit my bills on the day before they are due.  

I pull weeds. 

I show up for my family, friends, and colleagues.  I attend all-day meetings without (much) complaint.  I get my students’ grades in on time.  

I take the e-waste to the e-waste site.  I take the hazardous waste to the hazardous waste site. I get oil changes at a place that disposes of the oil in an environmentally-responsible way.

I offer my seat on a crowded bus to old people and pregnant ladies.  I hold the door open for the person behind me. I take off my shoes in no-shoe houses.

I apologize after I burp.  I sneeze into the crook of my elbow.  I wear a mask if I’m feeling sick.

I exercise, eat right, and get an annual physical check-up.  

I act my age.  

If I borrow something, I put it back where I found it. I wipe the counter after I cook.

I do what’s expected of me and treat others as they would wish to be treated.

I’m a responsible person.

I’m sick of it.