It was on a 28 degrees below zero day in Minneapolis that I realized how the word “cold” can be a relative term.
I talked to my father back in Michigan that evening and he referred to the weather there as “bitter cold” at 15 degrees above zero. I stifled a laugh as I told him that highs had barely struggled above zero that entire week in the Twin Cities. At that point I wanted to echo the words he’d often said to me as a child: Things can always be worse.
It’s true, no matter how bad a situation is, you can always find worse conditions near you. The Twin Cities were, according to an acquaintance in the northern part of the state, relatively mild. (“Well, it’s not forty below the way it is here!”) Head into Canada and the temperatures plummet even lower. Be careful whom you complain to someone about winter; they may come from an even colder climate.
Those of us raised by the Great Depression and Second World War generation grew up with exhortations of this kind. We’d get the Stink Eye if we complained about having leftovers for dinner: “Be grateful for what you have. At least there’s food on the table.”
Actually, my parents could have done a lot more lecturing about how easy we had it in the 1960s and ’70s relative to their youth, when beggars came to the door every day (and where never turned away) and families were losing livelihoods to the stock market crash.
My mother remembers her high school graduation as the day her school friend lost two brothers in battles in Germany. Not wanting to spoil the occasion the friend didn’t mention this loss until the next week. My mother-in-law also lost her brother in that war that touched almost every family. He died in a submarine in the Pacific at the age of 19. But a friend had two brothers die in the same day. As her mother pointed out, “No matter how bad you think you’ve got it, there’s always someone twice as bad off.” This generation learned its optimism the hard way.
“It’s all relative” is a truism that happens to be true. You may be frustrated that his job takes your spouse out of town often. Then you talk to someone recently widowed and realize you’re lucky to have that to complain about. You grumble about your mortgage until you hear of someone who has lost his home. You complain about your upcoming joint surgery, then see someone who must use a wheelchair, and feels grateful to be able to get around at all.
Am I being a Pollyanna when I count my blessings in this way? I don’t think so. Just look around you and you’ll find many people who’d be happy to trade their problems for yours. The childless couple wishes they had your colicky baby. The recently laid-off worker would be grateful to deal with your job hassles. Your leaky basement is nothing to the person who lost his home in a flood.
Even in the midst of difficult times, there are reasons to feel fortunate. For the past two years we’ve been dealing with a global pandemic. Yet, scientists around the world joined forces to come up with a vaccine that protects us if only we take it. The new omicron variant may be more contagious that earlier mutations but it causes less severe symptoms. And though the coronavirus has brought our society to its knees, it has also brought people all over the world together to find solutions.
Realizing that your troubles could be more severe can be freeing. We can switch the focus off our own woes by turning to help someone who’s worse off. A mature outlook includes looking beyond yourself and your own difficulties. It’s crucial to maintaining your mental health.
Our parents knew what they were talking about when they told us keep things in perspective. When you realize things could be worse, the next step is noticing that the here and now is pretty good.
