Those cadillacs are hell!

Pop-Pop Has Cadillacs
By Joseph Walther

I could tell by the expression on her face and the solemnity in her words that she had a problem. It was a serious problem, too. Her lunch guest listened intently as she poured her heart out, at times on the verge of tears. It was difficult not to overhear the conversation because there were no more than 4-feet between our tables. I had to sit there in helpless silence as she sought reassurance from her companion seated across from her.

As she continued talking about her fears, I felt my mind drifting, helplessly. I came face-to-face with a bipolar’s reality, as I momentarily soared to the euphoric pinnacle of loving life and then plummeting to the depths of despondency at the thought of how much the world might really suck!

The world has become an increasingly dangerous place. Iran is at the threshold of developing nuclear weapons, as well as promising to destroy Israel. Islamist extremists have become increasingly determined in their passionate resolve to destroy the infidels in the western hemisphere. This, of course, is in addition to their long-standing mission of converting the rest of the world to Islam.

Drifting back in, I heard her say, “I’m really scared.” Her companion tried to reassure her that everything was going to be fine.

Drifting back out, I went back to thinking…

And, let’s not forget about North Korea, a government run by a walking inferiority complex. He sits up all night long, watching pornographic videos while drinking Jack Daniels and Jim Beam booze by the gallon. He has a hairdo from hell and the looks of a man who couldn’t make out in a whorehouse with a fist full of fifty-dollar bills. He has nothing to lose and he might as well take the rest of the world with him.

Yes, compared to this stuff, our nail biting sparring with the former Soviet Union seems reminiscent of a harmless game of Tiddly Winks. In fact, I’ve often found myself nostalgically longing for those tranquil days of yesteryear.

Drifting... drifting back in, I heard her say…

“Is it going to hurt him?” Her companion said something, but I started to drift back out.

Drifting out again, I continued thinking…

Take me back to a time when, in the world’s eyes, the Soviets were the clear-cut bad guys wearing black cowboy hats. We, of course, were the good guys wearing white cowboy hats, always riding in to save the oppressed from tyranny. The rules were clear. They were evil and we were good. Their job was to keep the lid on in their hemisphere and we’d do the same in our neck of the woods.

Even though the Soviets didn’t give a crap about what the rest of the world thought, we, the United States, did care what the world thought of us. While the sounds of our intramural saber rattling echoed throughout the world, religious zealotry was not a motivation for either of our countries to take the world to the brink of Armageddon for the glory of Allah.

In retrospect, threatening each other with mutually assured nuclear annihilation seemed like a fun thing to do. It wasn’t as though we’d actually do it. Being secular countries, both of us had mutually vested interests in keeping beer, vodka, and sex alive and well. We both realized just how much of a crimp a nuclear war would put in these kinds of activities!

On a more personal basis, heartbreaks confront all of us. You may be one of the millions with a spouse, child, parent, or friend facing a terminal illness. I am sure that most, if not all, of you readers have witnessed lives torn to shreds as the result of personal disasters. Yes, the evidence is conclusive. Disaster does not discriminate.

Drifting… Drifting back in, I once again became fully aware of my surroundings and…

Suddenly, the urgency in her voice snapped me permanently back to the present. “He has to have an operation,” she sighed. “He might die,” she speculated. “I think he’ll be ok. Lots of older people have this operation,” said her lunch companion. “But daddy, Pop-Pop has cadillacs in his eyes,” she said, as a tears began to well up in her young eyes. “Will he be able to see again,” she pleaded.

The little girl’s name is Britney and she’s 5-years old. She’s no more than 3-feet tall. Her lunch companion was her daddy, Eric. Guessing, I’d put him at around twenty-five, give or take a year.

And, make no mistake about it. Britney loves her Pop-Pop. Her concern was as real as reality gets, and I could tell that her daddy understood it perfectly.

Her father looked at me and I just grinned back. I leaned over and told Britney about a friend of mine who also had cadillacs in his eyes. “He had the same operation and it only took about 15-minutes. It didn’t hurt at all and they didn’t even put him to sleep. He feels great now,” I said. She seemed to feel better as I said good-bye and walked away from the table. She and her dad were still talking, but she was smiling more than frowning.

Walking towards the mall’s exit, I again thought about how screwed up and dangerous our world has become. Then, I thought about Eric, Britney’s twenty-something year old daddy. Young as he appeared, he seemed more introspective than I was at his age.

He had a sense of empathy about what his young daughter was thinking. He spoke to her, not at her and he was able to draw her feelings out and let her talk about them. The mutual love and trust were plainly evident. It made me feel good and confident that there are far more loving and understanding relationships in the world than the dysfunctional ones we read about ad infinitum.

Yes, the world seems pretty messed up. I suspect, however, that much of it is illusionary. Even though the number of Eric and Britney-like folks outnumber the loonies, the loonies get all of the press. Perhaps this is why we get the feeling that we’re all doomed.

Compared to the rest of the world, America’s inconveniences outnumber her real problems by a significant margin. Rational people can tell the difference between an inconvenience and a problem. Jerks can’t. We can prevent temporary inconveniences from becoming overwhelming problems. All we have to do is devote more scientific research to finding a cure for jerks.

I see a lot more people like Eric, Britney, and their likes than I do jerks. It makes me feel better about the younger generation and increases my enthusiasm for life in general. We need to give these young people more credit than we have been giving them. They—not the jerks—represent our future and they are light years from stupid.

Sure, they’re young and sometimes rebellious, but they’ll do just fine. I’ll bet a buck or two on the fact that they are going to continue growing in mind and spirit until the day that they can collectively begin to worry about the younger generation, just as we did.

Finally, while I thought it inappropriate to discuss this with a 5-year old, I must tell you readers about it.

While having a cadillac in one eye must be a bummer, having cadillacs in both eyes must be awful. But, for sheer discomfort and pain, experience has shown me that nothing compares to having thyroids, especially when they are swollen and bleeding. They make the simple act of sitting down a monument to torture. And the surgery to fix this problem makes removing cadillacs seem like child’s play; not to mention the fact that it hurts like hell, even after it is over!

Have a great week. If you are so inclined, say a prayer for Britney’s Pop-Pop. I realize that it’s just cadillac removal, but a small prayer can’t hurt anything.

Joseph Walther is a freelance writer and publisher of The True Facts. Send your comments. Just click here.