By Jack Godbey

Columnist

I have always been a guy who loves a rainy day. I woke up this morning as happy as a dog with two tails as I heard those raindrops hitting the roof. However, I wasn’t at work five minutes before I heard someone complain about the depressing rain. They walked around as if someone had peed in their Cheerios. I wondered how anyone could be depressed on such a beautiful rainy day. Then, I realized that everything is about perspective. It all depends on which pair of glasses you are looking through. For example, if you have an outdoor wedding planned, the rain is a disaster. However, to the farmer, the rain is a miracle. Same rain, different perspectives.

I had a professor in college say that everything we hear is someone’s opinion and everything we see is our perspective of the truth. That means that while I may look like Uncle Fester, I choose to see George Clooney when I look in the mirror. It’s all about perspective. Remember, the sinking of the Titanic was a disaster to some but to the lobsters in the kitchen waiting to be cooked, it was an absolute miracle.

I was driving back from a trip the other day and was rolling down I-75 eating beef jerky and singing along with my “The Best of the 80’s” CD. It didn’t take long for other drivers to get on my last nerve as somebody blew by me as if he thought his last name was Earnhardt. I thought to myself, “What a maniac”. Then, I came up on a guy poking along as if he were on a Sunday drive in the country and I mumbled, “Go on idiot”. I realized then that anyone going faster than me was a maniac and anyone going slower than me was an idiot. However, to them, they were going the perfect speed. It’s all about perspective.

Few things show perspective better than the food we eat. While I would rather walk around in wet socks with a pebble in my shoe than eat liver, there are those out there that slap it up like candy. I was walking around the house today eating a peanut butter and mayonnaise sandwich and my wife looked at me as if I had brain damage. What’s gross to one, is a delicacy to another.

I remember when I was a child, everyone in the house had certain chores assigned to them. The jobs assigned to me were just created to keep me out of the way while my older siblings did all the real work. Still, my mother always included me, so she assigned me the job of going to the barn to collect any fresh laid eggs. Every day, I would get my bucket and raid the hen house with enough eggs for breakfast the next morning. However, one day, the barnyard rooster had decided that there would be no more of the little blonde-haired boy coming into his territory and upsetting his hens. He waited for me at the door of the barn, and I froze in my tracks when I saw him. We both just stood there staring into each other’s eyes as if we were having a gun battle in the wild west. He ended up flogging my legs so bad they bled. To me, I was unfairly attacked. To the rooster, he was merely defending his territory. However, I get the last laugh. I have a little smile of revenge on my face every time I go to KFC.

Growing up on a farm, I always had plenty of room to scavenge around in. I used to spend hours chasing rabbits across the field until they felt the sting of my Red Ryder BB Gun. My mother gave me that look that told me I had screwed up without saying a word. I defended my actions by saying, “I’m just having fun” in which my mother replied, “Is the rabbit having fun too?” Perspectives my friends, perspectives.