If I Could Pick

When I was little, I learned the rule about who gets to pick. It’s simple. It goes like this. I get to pick for me, and you get to pick for you. When there’s company—visitors—sometimes they get to pick for everyone, but that’s a courtesy, a way to say, “We’re glad you came to our home.”

I’m not sure why so many people are confused about this simple rule, but some people seem to think they get to pick when it’s definitely clear, that it’s not their turn.

“You know, you’re getting to an age where you should really get a shorter hairstyle.”
“Why thank you for saying that, but I’m fine with my hair, just fine with the way it is.
“Seriously, long hair is a much younger woman’s style.”
“Lady, put a sock in it. It’s my hair. You don’t get to pick.”

In my family we knew this rule really well. Maybe in other families this rule somehow got itself bent.

“You should try to do more socializing. Go out more. Have friends over. If you don’t invite people to your home, they will never invite you.”

“Hey there, Miss Interested, with all your friends. Look in a mirror, before you go out. That person there. That’s who you get to pick for. I'm not in that mirror. I don’t want or need to go out every night. Here is the hard truth. I’m the one who gets to pick for me, Clueless, I get to pick my life, not you.”

Lately I must admit an urge to break the rule has come over me. I’ve been wishing that I could win a pick, just one pick for more than my life—nothing big or impossible like world peace, mind you—but who knows this little pick might help out a little bit there too. My pick would be to mandate a nap everyday for every American in all 50 states. We wouldn’t have to sleep. Who could make someone sleep?

Still everyone would have to go somewhere quiet every afternoon for at least 20 minutes, alone with no toys—no TV, no computer, no Ipod, no phone. All toys would be off so we might give our minds a rest. With rested minds maybe our hearts and souls would have a chance to recharge. Maybe our spirits would wire all three back together. Maybe we would start to feel whole after a while. At the very least maybe then, we could use airplanes, or elevators, or restrooms without talking on cell phones.

There could be special dispensations for weekends or for when friends were in town, but otherwise, I think to miss naptime we should have to have a note from ourselves saying why we can’t be there.

I know I don’t get to pick whether every American spends every day getting some time alone. I just keep thinking if we did, we might not be so stressed. At least we’d put away our computers and cell phones for that little while. Some of us might figure out how to meditate or to pray.

Maybe then we wouldn’t look like people who are afraid to be alone.

—me strauss Letting me be