Filed under: Bragging, Everybody Poops, God, Humor, Life, Love, Parents, Racism, Sadness, Storms, Unions, Work
The book, ‘Everybody Poops’, was written by Bill Nye, The Science Guy. Remember him? He was a hit with kids back in the late 80’s and early 90’s I think. The first time we saw the book, we giggled like school kids. I mean, after all, it mentioned the word poop and that word makes everyone giggle at some point or another. Well, unless you’re a person whose job is to clean it up. Then, I suppose, you probably don’t giggle much about it.
Anyway, we were talking today about people who think that for one reason or another, they’re at least a half head better than everyone else. We all know them. We work with alot of them. They make it their business to make sure we know how important they are, even when they aren’t. We watch alot of them on TV or in movies or on sports fields. Then we watch them get all haughty because someone wants to take their picture or asks for an autograph and they don’t think they should have to participate. Hey, bucko, you’re the one who wanted to get all famous, and I helped you get there, so suck it up and sign the autograph.
Which brings me to – Everybody Poops. I started thinking about how we all want to point out the differences among us and 
how some of us even want to get all haughty about these differences. Whether we should or not is another question.
Just in case you ever get the idea you’ve got something to get all haughty over, I thought I’d give you a list of some of the things we do pretty much the same. Here goes….
We all have skin covering our muscles, unless yours has been burned off in a fire.
We all have hair covering our bodies, unless you have alopecia.
We all have eyes to see, unless you’re an alien from another galaxy, then you might not. Or if your haughtiness has blinded you.
We all have hands and feet and, generally speaking, ten fingers and ten toes, unless you were in a very bad accident or born without them.
We all have navals, I believe, without exception. There is a difference in navals, as some people have innies and some have outties. Even so, I see no reason to get haughty over it.
We all have ears, although some of us use them less than others.
We all have mouths, although some of us use them more than others and should think about that.
We all have butts, some flat, some round, some with kind of a table top effect, some sagging. Maybe you can get all haughty over your booty if you want. I wouldn’t lord it over others, cause the booty can change at any moment.
We all put our pants on one leg at a time, unless, again, you’ve been in a terrible accident, lost your legs to diabetes, or were born without them. If you’ve got ’em, be thankful for them and keep on walking.
We all have brains, although with some people, you just can’t tell.
We all breathe the same air, but some of our bodies respond badly to it while others consume it regularly.
We all have hearts that pump the blood that we all have, carrying the oxygen that we just breathed to all of the organs that we all also have. Here there is a difference: some hearts beat with love while others beat against love. Again no reason to get haughty – those beating with love should strive to help those beating against love.
We all came from the collision of a sperm with an egg and were ‘baked’ in a warm uterus until it was time for us to pop out.
We all have birth mothers; we don’t all have moms. Those who have moms should share with those who only have birth mothers.
We all have access to God. We don’t all choose to access Him.
We all have the capacity to love one another. When we use that capacity wisely, without mixing love with power or control, we just might forget the reason we thought we could get all haughty and enjoy and benefit from the gifts we each can share.
If all else fails just remember: everybody poops. Sometimes, that’s a very stinky business, so try not to poop on anyone else.
I admit it. I’m having a bit of a mid-life crisis. Again. Okay, so it’s pretty much past mid-life and on into a later life crisis. That’s probably why I’m having it. Again.
Last night I was watching “Little People, Big World”, as the mom, Amy, talked candidly about how she’s feeling as her boys approach graduation and her daughter goes to her first winter formal. Clearly, even though she’ll still have kids around the house for another six years or so (her youngest is about 12), she’s already thinking about and anticipating the empty nest and what that will mean for her and husband Matt. 
While Matt is always on to the next big thing, Amy’s more practical. In spite of Matt always wanting to move on to the next big thing, for him, that doesn’t mean travel; for Amy it does. For Matt the next big thing is something he can buy or build and usually uses up much more money than their finances should handle. Amy, on the other hand, realizes they’re not spring chickens any more and they should get a bit more conservative. After all, they might want to retire some day.
Matt plainly states that if there are no more projects to be worked on, crafted, then he might as well be done with life. Amy contends that if there are any more projects like the recent house remodel, there may not be any life left anyway. From Amy’s point of view, they both want completely different things. She wonders aloud if they’ll be able to continue their lives together? Matt just seems confused by her attitude.
I know how they feel.
Tonight, as I watched a favorite show, part of the telling was through a main character who had been diagnosed with lymphoma last week. Her journey led her to puzzle through what treatments to take, where to take them, how she would get through it all. While her mom and her husband tried to bring her to earth in research and the busyness of making decisions, she was about awakening to what made her happy. She took her soon-to-be sister in law to shop for a wedding dress, drank champagne, encouraged her to try on an ostrich feather dress. Then she got her family together for a happy dinner that wasn’t. When all was said and done, she said something quite profound – probably many cancer patients have said the same thing – ‘I won’t let cancer define who I am.’ (paraphrased)
BINGO!
Unbelievably, the very next show I watched – not on the same network – the main characters had also come through a difficult time and one said to the other – ‘You can’t let this define you.’
WHAT?
Okay, so I was hit between the eyes the first time I heard it but to get it thrown at me a second time in one night? I figured there was a message here and I needed to write about it.
How do we define ourselves? Once ‘defined’ always ‘defined’ or do we re-define periodically? Is there a standard measurement for defining or can we define based on our whims of the moment?
Pretty much, I don’t see myself as locked into a one dimension definition – yet. I haven’t been a person that got a degree (or didn’t) then went to work in a profession and stayed there for 35 years. I have been a person who’s nearly completed college; a person who’s held numerous positions, each one becoming somewhat of a building block for the next. What can I say? I like change and mobility.
In the first 15 years of my marriage, we moved around a bit going from our hometown, to Niles, to Xenia, to New 
Windsor (my favorite place) then here to Cortland. Through those times we lived in 10 different homes. I loved it! I thrived on it. I loved the change and I never minded moving. I learned that every other move is what I call ‘the good move.’ Those are the places you make a lot of friends and have a great life. Niles and New Windsor – the good moves.
After we moved here, we never moved again. Is it any wonder that I feel the stirring of the wander lust within? How do you ask a mobile person to define herself in a non-mobile world? It’s like asking New York City to be happy pretending to be Warren. Not possible. And the lightbulb comes on and I finally see more clearly now that my current definition just doesn’t match the me I want to be, something I’ve actually known as an uncomfortable feeling, but now it’s fully revealed.
The critical question: How do you successfully change a definition?
More later. Maybe.
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