The Worker

I will not complain on any account today. I am sure I could find the reasons to do such but I refuse to give in.

I could complain about the rainy weather. Instead I am thankful for the past seven days of brilliant sunshine. And I could complain about my barking knee that stopped me from hiking with the dogs in the rain along our favorite path down to the end of the peninsula and back. Rather, I will am thankful for the time I spent working on my photographic project that is finally nearing a point of completion. Lastly, I could complain that I have to go back to work in 36 hours. Rather, I am holding the past eight and rather uninterrupted days with my family close to my heart. And I will focus my thoughts on this man.

Mark is a sanitation worker in Northern Minnesota.

I rarely go into the office on weekends the past few years and I take several weeklong vacations each year. He works 300 days per year in shifts that often last 12 hours. He gets exactly ten days off each year. I work with other people's money. He deals with the dirty things that other people have discarded. I work in a plush office and stay in high-end hotels. By the definition of his work, he will go home each day longing for a shower and a place to put up his feet and give his back a well deserved rest from the rattle of his truck and the physical exertion required by his job duties.

My father used to say that he fought the "pity me" syndrome for his entire life. He told me to continually remind myself that my problems are always minor compared to those of others.

The pity me syndrome is an undeniable aspect of the human condition.

While we complain about a bit of rain, someone is dealing with a flooded home. And while we complain about a rickety joint, someone is dealing with uncontrollable and lifelong illness and pain. While we pat ourselves on the back in regards to how hard we work, our work ethic usually pales in comparison to the work ethic of others.

The older I get and the more I open my heart, the more I realize how insightful his words were.

The view of one's life is not complete if he or she cannot look at it in the light of those who live around them.