The world is a violent and dangerous place for so many. I count my blessings all the time, a huge one being that I live in a beautiful First World country. I mean, I live in a place where a single rusty gun found in the river has a newspaper article written about it:
How lucky can I and my family and all of my fellow citizens be? Makes you feel ashamed of complaining about anything, ever, y'know?
Yer Pal,
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The moment of realization for me was around 1993 or 1994 when I had to scavenge dead pine from the woods to heat my house because I was out of money and out of firewood. As I slithered around on some old beater skis, balancing sections of tree trunk on my shoulders, I felt like I might have it a little rough. Then I remembered that over in Sarajevo people were trying to hack green limbs off trees in city parks while other people shot at them. I felt luxuriously indulged after that.
It's all relative alright. Just gotta keep that stuff top of mind and you're good.
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