Why

10 Jan

When I was in college (the first time) I got a tattoo of the word “why” in pretty script on my back. That word has never failed to be an appropriate question when presented with, well, anything. Especially if you look around in this world. At the very least it can lead to a better understanding of your original question.

For instance, why does our cat Petra think that the best time to meow with gusto and longevity is exactly when I am trying to put Walt down to sleep? I fear that due to Petra’s lack of verbal skills this might never be fully understood. Maybe this is why she tries so hard to talk to me.

And then, at our local Kroger today, I see this:
IMG_20130109_162812

Why on earth would someone make the effort to put the cart so close to the return cart bin but not actually push it the extra couple of feet to get the thing into the proper area? You have to try to be that apathetic towards all the other cars and employees, or maybe it’s just a statement about the world. Hey world! I don’t care about anyone but myself!

I guess I could go on and on and on about all the whys. We feel them personally and globally every day. Why do our friends get terrible diseases that cause them and their families pain? Why do seemingly awful people have trouble not having kids but others in loving relationships have difficulties? Why do people on the other side of the world go hungry yet really fat people down the street complain of being poor? Why are so many people oblivious to the obvious realities that I can see?

I rarely see my tattoo, so I actually don’t remember very often that I have it. People who see it usually comment about it, often surprising me. I was flying home from France once long ago in first class, where the lucky passengers get to lay down to sleep, and the flight attendant came up to me and said, “Why not?” I, of course, was confused until he pointed out my tattoo.

“Exactly,” I said.

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