The Mood Will Pass, Sir

I did it again somehow: managed to get poison oak in various far-flung regions ofmy anatomy, currently exhibiting rashes, scabs, and scratches on my limbs, myhands, my back, and even -- how pretty -- my face. I realize this is not somethingyou needed to know, but as I sit here trying to tap out a few words, I see that my affliction, while relatively trifling in the grander scheme of things, has been affecting my perspective. Consider it a warning, then: I feel ugly, uncomfortable,and ridiculous.

Thank God for P.G. Wodehouse. How did he manage to elude me all these years? My daughter has forever been a fan, but I assumed it was just another example of her general fondness for things quirky and British. (And British he was, to the core, but did you know he actually spent the last two decades of his life on LongIsland? Go figure.) Anyway, my life suddenly includes the company of Bertie Wooster and the incomparable Jeeves, and I’m smiling more. Some random quotes to illustrate why:

She looked as if she had been poured into her clothes and had forgotten to say"when."

A melancholy-looking man, he had the appearance of someone who had searched forthe leak in life's gas pipe with a lighted candle.

Her face was shining like the seat of a bus-driver’s trousers.

He would walk ten miles in the snow to chisel an orphan out of tuppence.

“Have you ever tasted such filthy coffee?” “Never,” said Joe, though he had lived inFrench hotels.

He had just about enough intelligence to open his mouth when he wanted to eat, butcertainly no more.

All right. Enough. This could go on for hours. But the man was a brilliant comic writer and he’s been a wonderful tonic this week.

Speaking of tonics and memorable quotes, the other day I went to visit an African-American man I know named Art Hicks, who grew up in segregated Georgia during the days of lynchings and the Ku Klux Klan. He has since seen two of his grandchildren graduate from Harvard, served his community in many capacities, received a belated Congressional Medal of Honor for his service as a Tuskegee Airman during World War II, and attended the Inauguration of President Obama, a day once beyond all imagining. I asked him if he ever gets discouraged during the wearisome times we are experiencing right now. Here's his memorable reply: “I never get discouraged. I get ticked off. It's more useful.”

Along the lines of keeping things in perspective, I also received an email from an old friend who suffered an inconceivable loss a few years ago: the death of her 21-year-old son. (He had once been a student of mine.) “So life for us here on earth moves on…” she said. “Keeping it simple is what’s important.” 

Such hard-won wisdom, such good advice...

“I always advise people never to give advice,” said Mr. Wodehouse. But for all youfaithful readers of this little blog, I'm posting these free tips anyway, for the taking or theleaving: if you get poison oak, try not to scratch it; if you’re losing perspective, give a listen to someone who's been through much more; and if you want to feel light-hearted, just pick up one of those Jeeves books and Carry On.