But a lot of people are against it, and so is the law. I don’t know what you think of mercy killing. “Who decides what is significant?” I asked.Īll this I remembered as I sat by the fire on that sombre day, feeding the last shreds of paper to the flames.Īs soon as the thought hit me, I was certain of it. A life without fairness is always worth living a life without significance isn’t.” Philosophers might give that attitude a fancy title, like existentialism. But trying to build a life of significance despite the unfairness can be exciting. The sun on our skin and the beauty of the day made it hard to be ambitious. “You know what I think, Crabbe? I think a person reaches maturity when he strikes the last name off the blame list.” And that’d just give you somebody else to blame.” And if some fairy godmother did offer to take on the job, how could she possibly get it right? Only you know what you want. Who’s going to do it? You’re not a child, remember.

Waiting around for somebody to change your life for you is a loser’s game. I had been running through my “blame list” as I often did when I was depressed or unhappy (which, then, was most of the time). If it’s not a life you like, who should fix it?” “No, don’t laugh, Kiddo,” she said seriously, getting wound up like she always did when she was trying to make a point. I had a great aunt who used that old expression as often as she could. When I stopped for breath, she said, “Look, Grumpy, you’ve got a family, a house to live in, a place to make your mind and body grow, money to do some interesting things, parents who care about you -in spite of what you say. We had been swimming and were sitting on a huge granite slab that rose out of the water near our campsite, letting the hot sun dry us. I was going hell bent in a tirade against my phony parents and stupid teachers and boring life - all that crap. The first time it came out was just a couple of weeks after I had come to her. She wouldn’t say it sarcastically just stated it like it was a thought that had just occurred to her. “Life isn’t fair, Crabbe,” she’d say whenever I was in the middle of one of my complaining fits. That was one of her favourite expressions, I thought as I tore her letters into shreds and gave them to the fire.

Crabbe by william bell