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One of the purposes I created this blog is to put all my random thoughts together in one place, and hope to establish some sort of consistency with my thinking.  As it should be, the Junkman’s Baby should be a random assortment of emotions and ideas, not only for my own benefit of seeing my thoughts in the written word, but also to give the readers a little insight to what’s floating around my brain (like you care).

In most cases these thoughts last a little over a second but leave a lasting impression.  Sometimes I don’t even consciously realize I’m even having these thoughts.  Lately, however, I’ve been trying to make it a point to stop and think about what my brain just developed- last night was one of those moments.

So, I’m at work, and for those who don’t know, lets just say I manage a fast food restaurant type thing, and I was running the register for a while as we started getting busy from the local high school football game letting out.  As family and friends poured in wearing their school spirit proudly embroidered on shirts, jackets, and hats, I noticed many of them had pins depicting pictures of their favorite player in the game (usually a family member, significant other, or close friend).  I had noticed a family come in, all wearing the same player’s pin; he was clearly a son, grandson, nephew, brother etc…  As an elder woman in the family came up to purchase a cup of coffee I began to think about how this woman is the proud grandmother of the kid on her pin- and immediately I thought about how lucky this kid is to still have his grandmother around and cheering him on.  I also knew that no matter the outcome of that game, or how he played, she’s going to tell him he did a great job.  Then in a millisecond, my thoughts went to how sad that same kid is going to be when she dies.  Not only did I picture him at her funeral, but I pictured him in the few weeks after, mentally struggling to wrap his head around the void she’ll inevitably leave behind.  I felt bad for that kid, I mean, he seemed nice enough from the pictures.  All this during a transaction for one cup of coffee.

Why? Why should I care about that kid or the old lady?  Why does it matter to me?  I’ll likely never see them again, or if I do, I won’t remember them.  And why, when interacting with this nice lady did I immediately think of her death.  Some may argue it’s because I’m still grieving over the loss of my own grandmother, a few months ago now, or that maybe as I get older, I am taking a closer look at my own mortality.  Perhaps.  But it was just a passing thought, it’s not like it ruined my night or anything.  Man, I hope that lady is okay.

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