Incoherent thoughts on what I’m supposed to be doing

Some nice stories in the paper today (…you know the one. We only have one. I remember growing up in San Antonio, we had two, and that when the San Antonio Light closed down in 1992, the entire city’s shoulders slumped. My uncle worked there as a photographer for decades, and now he’s a San Antonio Express-News man. It’s not the same, being a one-paper town.)

Anyway, some nice stories about nice people doing nice things. People throwing a party to raise money for a sick little girl. Other people building a house for a Habitat for Humanity family. You read those and think, “I’m glad somebody’s doing it.” But do they make you want to get out and do something, too?

There was a short piece in the New York Times last month (a city with LOTS of papers) with some stats on volunteering. It opened like this:

“Why do people volunteer? Maybe it’s a need to help out, do good and give back. Maybe it’s boredom, a desire to meet new people or concern that one’s obituary won’t have much to say.”

I liked that last one. We’ve all heard the sayings about how on their deathbed, nobody ever wished they’d spent more time at the office. “Be with your family!” we’re urged. “Be with the people you love! Do something great! Live, for chrissakes!”

So what will my obituary say? “Loved Fresca, kept a neat house, didn’t mind playing with either monster trucks or Barbies one bit, and thought a lot about helping people.”

Back to work, then.

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