Get Tough or Die

When I was a little girl and would whine to my mother that something was not fair, she would usually reply "who told you life was fair?"

She knew whereof she spoke; that woman never caught a single break. And yet, she never gave up hope and she never lost her smile.

I often speak of her optimism, her indomitable good will, her undying belief in humanity's innate goodness despite repeated demonstrations to the contrary. I try to square that optimism with her pessimism. It never manifested as bitterness, only as fear. She always feared the worst, and why wouldn't she? She lived it so often.

It's such a cliche, but why do bad things happen to good people? Why do nice guys finish last? There's a bumper sticker saying that "Character Counts;" counts for what?

I keep thinking that integrity will be met with integrity, honesty with honesty, kindness with kindness, but experience has shown me otherwise. It doesn't seem to matter how I live in the world, whether I'm kind or cruel, patient or demanding, ethical or dishonest. I continually encounter people who take advantage of others, who take what isn't theirs and make others pay.

I'm still surprised by the takers; you'd think by now I'd be expecting them. Despite my mother's best efforts, I keep expecting the world to be fair, but it isn't.

It's long past time for me to get over it, long past time for me to get tough or die.