Good morning, Digital Neighbor! Here is a story I came across in a book many years ago that I first shared over on Padre’s in 2021. One of the few things you can control in life is your attitude. How you think and feel is your sole responsibility—no matter how many jerks inhabit your family tree or workspace. Others can certainly put a strain on our attitude and can wear us out, but ultimately, we are responsible for how people or things get to us. It is an easy thing to forget once we surrender ourselves to feelings of self-pity or inflated self-importance. No one is perfect, but one will never arrive at any degree of self-possession if they don’t strive for it. Perspective and attitude are such game-changers for our day-to-day living and for rubbing elbows with our neighbors. Have a wonderful Saturday!
HAVE A NICE DAY
I never knew his name. In my mind he was the “Parking Lot Man.” Each day I drove to school and saw the older man in his early fifties who sat in the booth in the pay lot where I parked. He worked there eight hours a day, doing what, to me, seemed like a boring job—collecting money and raising and lowering the exit bar. Yet he appeared to enjoy his work. He always gave me a big smile when I drove up to pay my fee and sent me off with, “Have a nice day.” What he didn’t know was that at that particular time in my life, I needed someone to remind me to have a nice day.
I was taking dance classes that year, hoping to improve my technique. As a woman coming to dance later in life, I found the classes much harder than I realized. Most of my classmates were at least ten years younger, and some had been training since they were three years old. I struggled with health and emotional issues, as well as ongoing back problems. Every day I’d leave the studio feeling exhausted, discouraged, and mediocre. Why did I keep taking classes?
My spirits were always lifted by the Parking Lot Man. Sometimes when there were open spaces on the streets, I’d park in his lot anyway because I looked forward to his smile and greeting.
One morning I came to school early and saw the Parking Lot Man pushing himself around the lot in a wheelchair. I had noticed the chair before, but because he sat in the booth, I had never seen him below the waist. I drove by and he waved, smiling, and then went back to cheerfully picking up bits of trash. He moved swiftly around the edges of the lot, turning his chair expertly across the lined asphalt. I marveled at the pride he took in his work, even down to the smallest details.
When I got out of my car, what I saw almost made me drop my dance shoes. He had no legs! That day I went to class on my own two legs with my bundle of limitations and enjoyed what I knew I was supposed to do.
— Carol Oyanagi
Salève, Beaumont, France Ryan Klaus - Unsplash
