“When you are confused assume you are the only one so you won’t need an explanation.”

Recently I went to the ophthalmologist to get my yearly eye exam. When I checked in I was handed a sheaf of paperwork. As I sat down, the technician called my name.  I grabbed the paperwork and went into the examining room where she tested my vision and dilated my eyes with some super-duper drops. I was then escorted into an inner sanctum to wait my turn to see (are you kidding me!) the doctor. I was also told to fill out the paperwork.

I kind of looked at the papers in my lap, and said, “The words are all blurry,” but I was complaining to an empty room. I put on my glasses and that did help a bit, because now I could make out that the health questions were multiple choice, so I figured out that if the sentence began with; “Do You Have?”  I’d just mark “No!”  Finally, I did read, “Do your muscles or joints hurt? Do you have arthritis?”  At that, I just wrote: “I am old. What do you expect?”

So, now, I was in an empty room and the minutes ticked away and away, and I could not read anything, and the TV was explaining cataract procedure.  I could have become very angry, but instead I proceeded to do my Yoga chair exercises.  I surprised the technician when she caught me sliding up and down the wall doing knee squats.

I rarely get angry—frustrated, YES—angry NO. Anger is exhausting and hard to deal with, but lately it has become a lifestyle in the United States. Everybody is mad about something. For instance instead of trusting science, some people would rather feed their anger by playing the blame game while getting furious with Chinese Bats, Chinese Labs or Chinese Checkers, while what really matters is getting the pandemic under control by getting inoculated.

Thus, I have some trepidation about the forthcoming Holidays. So many people are on such a short tether. For instance, it used to be that at School Meetings the worst ruckus was over who had forgotten to bring the cookies, and the meanest person was the Cafeteria Lady who threw tapioca pudding on top of your mashed potatoes. No one would have thought of putting a contract out on her life for sloppy food dishing.

I am afraid that Thanksgiving will become a toxic holiday. It was fun when Robin Williams said, “When cooking the turkey, my Mother forgot to take out the bag of giblets.”  So, when dinner was served, she said, ‘Do you want dark meat, white meat or plastic dip?” And, it used to be that the worst thing at dinner was the family vegan’s annoying lecture about the main dish. Nowadays, it just might be the obnoxious son-in-law who rips off Grandpa’s mask and brags about his right to make everybody sick.

And then there are the folks at Christmas time who will decide to beat up the Salvation Army Bell Ringer because he ding a lings with his left hand, and they only like right hand ding a lingers. No lefties for them!  Right now, people just don’t get along. People don’t listen and people are afraid, and fear is the mother of anger.

So can it get better? Will Rogers said it years ago: “Congress is so strange. A man gets up to speak and says nothing, nobody listens and then everybody disagrees,” and the philosopher Homer Simpson added, “Marge it takes two to lie. One to lie and one to listen.”

It’s all there. People want to be listened to, respected and trusted. The problem is that these things have to be earned. So that’s my case against anger.  

However, those who enjoy living on a short fuse will claim that anger has its advantages. For instance, Lamborghini didn’t produce a single car until Enzo Ferrari made him really, really mad,  and Senator Ted Cruz didn’t have a viable angry moment until  he could beat up on Sesame Street’s beloved Big Bird—a big puppet who has a following that can’t vote.

Is anger  contagious?—Maybe—but what about insanity?

Esther Blumenfeld