worry

I havworrybirde always been a worrier, it seems. Sometimes I think it’s behavior I picked up from my Grandpa Monaghan, my mother’s dad. He would worry about just about anything — things like did we order enough Broasted Chicken for a family gathering.

It may be genetic, however. I say that because I think I was busy worrying before I was aware of my grandfather’s worrying habits. When I was four or so we went to San Francisco on vacation, and we stayed with Uncle Johnny and Aunt Miriam, who lived on the Peninsula. I was so worried that I wouldn’t get the chance to ride the cable car that Aunt Miriam gave me her worry bird, which I still have to this day. It originally had a small printed card in its beak that said:

Don’t be sad
And don’t be blue,
’Cause I’m the bird
Who’ll worry for you

I would have been well advised to have taken up the bird on its offer all these years.

The events of last week gave me the opportunity to revisit my habits of worrying once again. It’s time for me to let the bird do its job and to pay attention to the Buddhist proverb that states the obvious all to clearly.

If you have a problem that can be fixed, then there is no use in worrying.
If you have a problem that cannot be fixed, then there is no use in worrying.


3 Comments on “worry”

  1. When Lithus and I met, I wasn’t a worrier. The Buddhist proverb was one I actually lived by. Since living with Lithus, I have picked up his penchant for worrying. We joke now that if one of us doesn’t have something to worry about, the other will happily share *their* reason for worrying.

    Could I borrow your bird?

  2. […] about worrying, I made reference to my Aunt Miriam. That got me thinking more about her and Uncle Johnny, who […]


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