Monday morning, a few weeks back, outside temperatures were quite chilly, necessitating warmth for my car, just off from its overnight rest. Turning the ignition, waiting for a lovely burst of heat, I shivered. And shivered. And waited. And nothing. Blasted with continuous arctic air, a piercing chill able to cool the hottest dog on the longest day of summer, I was COLD.
“What! The! F*ck! Who hacked my car?! Why in hell is the AC on?!”
And then I remembered.
The night before, on sleepy Sunday, I’d arrived back to the stalemated city. But it was not so sleepy as I anticipated. Contending with opera, musical, and symphony traffic, I went absolutely bonkers! Unrightfully so. Using more F words and horn blowings than a New York taxi driver at rush hour, I was so hot that during half mile of travel, 30 minutes later, I’d stripped to a little t-shirt and jeans, tied my hair into a pony, and blew my air conditioner to the coolest of temps. And it was 50 degrees outside.
I really just should have taken the cannoli.
“Leave the gun; take the cannoli.”
Let go of the bad; embrace the sweet.
The Godfather really is the I-Ching on life. Not only does it sell me (a former Bulimic) on cannoli (which at one point would have been more dangerous than a gun), but he confirms my thoughts on morality. This famous quote of “Leave the gun; take the cannoli” happens on a deserted highway, Statue of Liberty darkly appearing in the distance. Under orders to whack one of two traveling mates, the don’s henchman Clemenza instructs the driver to pull over, muttering, “I gotta take a leak.”
Three shots into the driver’s head later, the job was done. Whacked for disloyalty to the family, the driver was dead, shot by the man in the backseat. Clemenza, returning from emptying his bladder, remembers that he promised his wife a dessert. So he tells the hit man, “Leave the gun; take the cannoli.” Overriding every other detail of that moment (that of a dead man killed for disloyalty to the family), Clemenza’s obligation to his wife spells out a great moral manifesto. No matter what, honour that which is important to YOU.
Whether it be your wife, your don, your God, your dog, honour it.
I choose to honour my love for simple things. My love for doing things according to my own value system. And my love for writing about it.
At my last article, Back in the Saddle Again, I came under attack for writing about my lovely bicycle adventure. For not being “impressive.” For publishing something un-wow. For being me. And that really blows that people exist in this world who hatefully read blogs, spreading unkindness through commentary.
I write this blog for many reasons, one of which is to demonstrate that opposition will be faced when doing things your way. The different way. I write to encourage you to find your own health and to be proud of it.
Today, I’ll be a little more sweeter on the road. Perhaps you can be kinder in your comments.
Take the Cannoli.