Designated Self-Pity Day
Published: January 3rd, 2008
By: Shelly Reuben

Designated Self-Pity Day

Sometimes, things go wrong.

A car careens out of control and the driver’s best friend is killed. An actor is turned down for the perfect part because he’s two inches shorter than the female lead. A dancer’s dream of a career-defining leap across the stage is shattered when she falls and breaks her leg.

Foibles are provided courtesy of an often inconsiderate Fate: The young warrior, born for a military career, is kept from following his destiny because his bones are as brittle as potato chips; an executive misses a job offer because her answering machine fails; a brilliant poet pens his couplets in an era when rhyming verse is considered passé; a love affair comes to a bitter end because a letter is lost in the mail.

Bigger tragedies exact greater tolls: Incurable illnesses. Victimized Innocents. Husbands, wives, children, friends…dying. Houses destroyed by fire. Catastrophes inflicted by hurricanes. Tornadoes. Mudslides. Avalanches. Floods. Wars. Bombs. Fraud. Theft. Duplicity. Insanity.

You name it and, guaranteed, one or another disaster of Olympian proportions will be waiting in the wings. None of us can escape some bad news, and some of us have to endure way too much of it.

Which is what I find so amazing. That we can endure. That we should endure. That we must endure. And that, so magnificently and with so much savoir-faire, we so frequently do endure.

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