The difference between living in a monastery and living in a prison is not the food or the freedom. It is the company.
Most of the real misery in a prison is what the inmates do to each other.
Many years ago in a restaurant I was very upset by how sullen and rude the waitress was. The guy with me said something very illuminating:
“Just remember,” he said, “That attitude will keep her in a low-pay dead end job for the rest of her life.”
There is a famous picture of the passengers on a New York subway in the 1950s. What comes through is the misery and hopelssness written on every face, from the well-dressed businessman to the shabby folk. New York was proud to be the rudest city on earth and New Yorkers were known to be pushy and insulting.
The results showed on their faces.
I was insulted by a man I knew who didn’t return my greeting. It turned out that his son had been killed in an accident a few days before.
Maybe 99% of the people who are rude to you are just being nasty. But I would rather forego being nasty back to them if 1% are like the man whose son had been killed recently.
And the nasty people usually end up leading pretty nasty lives.
#1 by Mary K on 10/19/2004 - 11:56 pm
Bob,
I know New Yorkers can be a bit rough, but let’s not go overboard with the stereotypes. New Yorkers are not all from Manhattan – some work in the outer boroughs and find the place as distasteful as non-New Yorkers do. And proud to be considered rude? I have yet to meet a New Yorker who would consider rudeness a source of pride. The white ethnic neighborhoods of New York may not be as conservative as the South, but their values are much closer to Dixie’s than Manhattan’s, despite the inhabitants’ fast-talking, somewhat cynical exterior. There are more New Yorkers whose political and social views agree with those of “Ole Bob” than you’d think. (And this last line reveals why WhitakerOnline is so unique. How many writers do you know who refer to themselves in the third person?)
Best wishes,
Mary
#2 by Peter on 10/21/2004 - 12:15 am
I think the faces in the NY subway reflect life in any big city. Their lives stink because they sixty hours a week and commute two hours a day. Even for those of us who work forty hours a week: if I skied forty hours a week, I would come to hate it. But who only works forty hours any more? Didn’t that end about the time women were liberated?
#3 by Don on 10/22/2004 - 10:46 pm
I once rode the Chicago Elevated. At night. On the South Side. Some people described this as a Near-Death experience.