My Father’s Wit

My father, may he rest in peace, was one of the fastest people on his feet I ever knew.  At least as far as a clever rejoinder, he was very quick on the draw.  He wasn’t always good at responding to other situations in real time, few are.  Those quick on their feet in every situation are the stuff of Hollywood movies, there aren’t many of them.  But in conversation my father was as quick as anyone in the witty comeback department.

I’m reminded of this because I was just lamenting to myself that I need to get more chores done, crucial unpleasant appointments made, business taken care of, in addition to daydreaming and planning all the time.  Granted, my daydreams and plans seem to be budding and I can almost see the flowers that will be the fruits of this long labor of dreaming and planning, but still, I need to do chores.  I also recognize that I’m fortunate, at the moment, that I am not lashed to the wheel of having to work to pay my rent  today, or tomorrow, although that day is looming.  So while I was bothered by my reluctance to take care of needed chores, and reflecting on my good fortune not to have to report to some hideous job every day, my father’s voice came into my head.

“You’d complain if you were hanged with a new rope,” said the old man.