That is what my older daughter asked me once when I was about to tell her a story about someone I knew, or someone a friend knew, or someone who was someone’s hairdresser who knew the cousin of….
I don’t remember.
But I do know that my daughters accuse me of stockpiling sad, unpleasant tales of Woe. And Suffering. And, yes, Death.
I admit that I think I might be guilty of being Debbie Downer on occasion, but I blame my age. And my friends’ ages. We are all in the same boat, and I think of the way life works as this:
We are all hoping we are dodging bullets we don't even know are coming our way.
Cases in point:
A friend told me about a friend’s friend who was knocked over by a wave in the ocean and ended up paralyzed from the neck down and who would have to remain on life supports. No hope for recovery. His mind, however, was just fine and he made the informed decision to be taken off life supports.
I read or heard someplace that a woman died from inhaling some kind of harmful bacteria when she was turning her compost pile.
And right after we moved here and were still living in Hotel Hell, I was caught in a terrible traffic tie up and was very late to pick up younger daughter from a nature center where she was working as a counsellor. I later found out that the traffic was stopped because of an accident: a woman had been killed when a port-o-john fell off of the truck in front of her and crashed through her windshield.
Think of all the worrying some of us do. I bet that no matter how many things that woman might have worried about in her life, she never, ever considered the possibility of being killed by a port-o-john.
And that is my point exactly. The port-o-john was the bullet she never saw coming.
At last Thursday’s knit night, Sallyknit related what she considered, and we all agreed, to be the most bizarre news story from the week. A man in Brazil was killed, in his bed, while he was asleep, by a cow that fell through his roof.
(We might have giggled a little, but then said STOP THAT! It’s only a little bit funny. No! It’s not funny at all. It’s tragic. But it IS a little …..when you say it out loud….No! Stop!)
But again, no matter what this poor man’s worries were, I’ll bet they didn’t include a cow crashing through his roof and crushing him.
I promise my daughters and whoever else has the apparent misfortune to talk with me that I will keep the woe, suffering and deaths to a minimum.
In the meantime, Serpentine, Shelly. Serpentine!
(A big prize to the person who knows that reference. Immediate family prohibited from entering.)