The Small Things

I believe that in our culture we are so programmed to obsess about the things in life that are spectacular that we often overlook or ignore the moments that are truly beautiful. In order for something to be truly memorable, it seems it has to be seen by millions on TV or on the internet. Everyone's filming their events and posting them on YouTube hoping that millions of others will think that their horse and pony show is the next "most watched video" of the day. "In order for my life to be important, everyone else must think so too," seems to be the mantra of our culture. If something is worth anything, it is probably broadcast somewhere, right?

Right now, I'm going to say that it's not so. For some reason tonight, I've been thinking about those countless number of times in my life where life has felt beautiful. The knowledge that there have been countless numbers of times is in and of itself beautiful and brings a smile to my face. I can honestly not tell you how many times I've had moments of sheer pleasure in my relatively short life. In fact, I'm sure I can't even recall all of them. I know that none of them have been televised or broadcast on the internet. Some of them have been shared with others, but many have been in complete solitude.

I remember one summer night I was driving home from a long night of washing dishes at Cracker Barrel in maybe 1992. It was summer and it was probably about 12:30 or 1:00 in the morning. Anyone who has washed dishes will know what you smell you like after you get out of work. You smell like cooked food that's been put through a dishwasher- disgusting. And so I was driving home in the Michigan summer night air in my 1986 Chevrolet Caprice Station Wagon and I had the radio blaring some '70's rock 'n' roll and the windows rolled down and suddenly a thunder storm rolled in about half-way home. And it was pouring. And I remember just leaving the window rolled down and feeling that cool rain pour in through the window as I was traveling 70mph down I-94 towards Parma singing as loud as I could and feeling totally alive. I don't think that the rain that came through the window of that big ass car actually washed any of the stankiness off of me, but I felt as though it somehow cleansed me in some way that at that time I could not describe. I know that by the time I got home I was sad that the drive was over, it was that great.

In 1992 YouTube didn't even exist. In fact if the Internet existed at all, I'd never heard of it, let alone seen it. And there was no one to share that moment with and no one who witnessed it, but it was just as satisfying as if everyone had. Maybe what I'm trying to say is that there are moments in life that are beautiful and should be enjoyed for the sheer simplicity of them. And they don't need to be validated by the masses to have true meaning. So, take the moments as they come, and try to remember them for what they are. Even if no one else ever knows about them.