Sandy Supposes....

Old Fork's Home?

PROMPT: War Chest Wednesday! What is your "philosophy of life"... the idea that guides the way you live? And why have you chosen it?

          Oooh, more heavy, touchy-feely stuff... How apropos post American election. How will we go on? Will we endure?

         I suppose I strive to be an optimist. I look for the silver lining. Okay, disaster sometimes hits me over the head, or tragedy reminds me I have no control, but I persevere. I respond to the good in people. I enjoy comedy, and laughter. Often everyday life is absurd. Are you familiar with the ridiculous Monty Python scene in which people caught up in being crucified break into song? There they are nailed to wooden crosses, and they warble, "Look on the sunny side of life." Not that I've experienced quite as piercing a dilemma, but for instance when I've fractured a limb, I choose to see the humour. I refer to my plaster cast as a battering ram, or my boot cast as a Frankenstein shoe. I encourage family and friends to decorate my new armature, and make it pretty. I chat with my fellow walking wounded.

         I listen to people and collect life stories. I strike up conversations with strangers wherever I am. In a short three block radius the other day, I gleaned the life history of an older gentleman I met by chance while we were both out limping. I learned that his gait is the result of a fall from the tallest building in our village which happens to have the glamorous name 'castle'. It's a restaurant with a turret, no moat, or guards. Now how many locals can lay claim to falling from a castle? There was no maiden in distress, but there was a leaky roof.

          Recently, another random stroller regaled me about basements, and foundations. Why that particular subject? I learned all about flood plains, and grading.

         My favourite place for funny talks is along the fence of the nearby elementary school. Young children at recess love to tell tales. One five-year old boy smiled this impish grin, and then tried to convince me that his father was only thirteen years old. All the kids chimed in with their best-guess age estimates of relatives. Many supposed their parents were "real old" at twenty. One girl was sure her Granny was thirty. They are always nosey; "Where are you going? What are you doing?" They are just so irresistibly happy, and positive!

          I choose to make the most of every day. Whining, and complaining won't get me anywhere. Humour supports me. On line posts supply unlimited giggles. Someone intended quite a different word, but the one they mis-typed caught my attention. The idea of "an old fork's home" is silly, but hey, do old utensils retire?