Pretty Good Life So Far

I have recently been reminded that, despite my relatively low income, I'm still leading a life of comparative luxury and privilege.

Two nights ago I read Ian Brown's deeply moving and thought-provoking piece about his disabled son, "The Boy in the Moon". He describes in exquisite detail the struggles he and his family have faced dealing with his 11-year-old son Walker's Cranio-fascia-cutaneous syndrome, which renders the boy incapable of speech, ultra-sensitive to touch, and ridden with digestive system complications -- among many handicaps. Brown also struggles with his emotions surrounding his seemingly flawed son and his search for Walker's significance in the lives of his father, his family, and the society around them.

This morning I read a few posts from "Life Must Go On in Gaza and Sderot", a Blog of Note. I read of the siege of Gaza, the blockades, the resulting unemployment and despair, and the plea for One Month of Ceasefire. The posters state over and over that the conflict is not generated by the average citizens, but by militants who seemingly don't desire to stop until one side or the other is brought to its knees and begs for mercy, or is annihilated outright.

Reading these stories sobers me up considerably, but also makes me extremely thankful for the life I am lucky enough to enjoy. The fact that I can bike to and from work without riding over a land mine and getting blown to smithereens is, when I think about it, almost dumb luck. That I have a roof over my head, relatively robust health, good food in my belly, clean water to use and am surrounded by people who love me? Practically an accident of birth. There are billions more people who suffer much worse, in one way or another. It makes me want to do something, anything, even the smallest thing to help out. So I give blood and sign petitions for Avaaz.org. Peanuts, really, but it's better than willful, blissful complacency.

Martha Wainright (Rufus' sister) has a song that pins down the sentiment of someone who never takes a safe and comfortable life for granted. "Pretty Good Day" is a perfect meld of the sardonic dark and bittersweet light of such a situation.

I slept through the night, I got through to the dawn
I flipped a switch & the light went on
I got out of bed, I put some clothes on
It was a pretty good day so far

I turned the tap, there was cold, there was hot
I put on my coat to go to the shop
I stepped outside & I didn't get shot
It's a pretty good day so far

I didn't hear sirens or explosions
No murders coming in from those heavy guns
No UN tanks, I didn’t see one
It's a pretty good day so far

No snipers in windows, taking a peak
No people panic, running scared through the streets
I didn't see any bodies without arms, legs, or feet
It's a pretty good day so far

There was plasma & bandages & electricity
Food, wood & water & the air was smoke-free
No camera crews from my TV
Pretty good day so far

It was all such a strange sight to behold
Nobody was frightened, wounded, hungry, or cold
The children seemed normal, they didn't look old
Pretty good day so far

I walked through a park & you would not believe it
There in the park, there were a few trees left
And on some branches, there were a few leaves
It's a pretty good day so far

I slept through the night, I got through to the dawn
I flipped the switch & the light came on
I wrote down my dream & I made it this song
It's a pretty good day so far