Priorities in Place

Not so long ago the series of events unfolded thus:

   Muammar Gaddafi was slain; the stock market lost fifty-four points. My dog Oscar got a bath then napped on the top of the couch in a cocoon of towels.

  The birds twitter outside as the day warms from its frosty beginning.

  I wondered, in earnest, what any of this mattered? Not just for those whose country had been liberated, or to those whose savings are waning by the whims of global events. Yes, I know, I make it matter; just as you make things matter to you too. Collectively we agree to laud one person a hero, or claim another as a villain.  If we disagree then likely or not we will spend emotional capital and energy trying to convince the other who owns title to being right. What will history students of the future think about what it was like back now?  Back when we defined our time.

   I walked the neighborhood, a necessary past time for dog owners, and I got a glimpse into one of my neighbors home through a door left ajar. I looked at the array of common objects, the couch, shoes, television, wall decorations and other items lying about. It seemed all so familiar yet foreign at the same time. I felt a whisper to judge conditions, as well as an urge to turn my head away; a subtle reaction to thinking I was invading privacy.  I was not invited to look. I have to laugh at these introspective moments brought on by the end of a story; where the focused ire has been brought to task. Where will we find the next distraction to avoid the awesome responsibility of our life choices?

Who shall we blame next for the discrepancies of our wishes? What tasty morsel of crises or outrage will grab our attention next? Clearly Oscar is indifferent to any of those questions; he has his priorities in place.