In my forty eight years on earth, I’ve learned many lessons. None more important than this.
Whatever you think matters, doesn’t.
It doesn’t matter if you got fries instead of the onion rings at Sonic.
It doesn’t matter if your Citibank payment got lost in the mail and they won’t remove the late fee.
It doesn’t matter if the only place your roof leaks is directly over your face when, after a long day at work, you finally get the opportunity to get some well earned shuteye.
It’s taken forty eight years, but I finally have been able to put this mantra into everyday practice.
Whatever you think matters, doesn’t. It’s all good. Relax.
For instance, I decided it didn’t matter as I stared at the ceiling of an ambulance eight months ago, the victim of an uninsured motorist. An uninsured motorist who crossed the center line and took out my pride and joy, a Dodge Hemi Thunder road 4×4 that I wouldn’t take out of the garage if it even looked like rain.
“What was I worried about?” I thought to myself. “It was just a truck, it doesn’t matter.”
I didn’t worry about it when two months ago my company told me that my job would be moving to one of six places in the US after a 25 year career in good old Springfield, Mo. As I left the conference room with my severance folder, I shook my head and whispered “Well, this isn’t so bad. This really doesn’t matter. Things certainly could be much worse!”.
Yep, I live by those words. “It doesn’t really matter.” You should too! Except in one area.
Kansas City Chiefs football matters.
It damn sure matters when Ed Hoculi blows a call five feet from my second row seats in Amen corner and refuses to even acknowledge my concerns regarding league vision standards for referees.
I’ll graciously open the door for the lady who cut in front of me at the local WalMart and wish her a nice evening. No sense in getting worked up over little things.
But the orange and blue idiot with the sponge Bronco hat is going to the gravel with me if he even thinks about taking the last napkin at the frozen lemonade cart.
Those kids who put an explosive device in my mailbox every Halloween are just having fun! Nothing to get worked up over. We all did it!
Yet every Sunday my mother asks if that was me dangling over the rail screaming “It’s a good day to die!” at a visiting running back who chose my section to perform a celebratory TD dance.
My blood pressure hits dangerous levels as I scream at a Raiders fan, pausing of course to join the stadium wave. But my diastolic stays within acceptable levels as I wipe off the snot someone left on the workout bench at my gym.
Yep if you sit down, pop a brew and think about it, life is a lazy old river. Each bend is an unknown challenge. None of it really matters.
Nothing really matters, unless you are at One Arrowhead Drive.
Let’s hear some of your cut it loose, rip it up, throw it down Arrowhead stories!