Smell What Roses?

I know…these aren’t roses. I don’t much like them actually. Too stiff and formal for my taste. And these – whatever they may be – just sung to me.

So let me get back to Roses. Growing up I had been told that I liked to smell them “too much.” Of course our memories are funny things, so my mind has been set to wondering whether I’ve been holding the wrong message in my head about those dang flowers. My friend Paul started by asking “Why do you think you were told that story?”

Did Dad really say “too much” as gentle prodding …to achieve at a higher level? Or was it his realization that I preferred wandering instead of powering through life? And was it just statement of fact and if so, where did I find the Un to transform the happy thought of noticing and smelling flowers into a stick to beat myself over the head?

All those questions were not as important as the one Paul then posed, “How do you turn it – the negative – around?”

So here: I saw the flowers and noticed them at all. That was the gift to cherish.

Any of you remember this ditty? Love Ella’s version:

…You’ve got to accentuate the positive
Eliminate the negative
And latch on to the affirmative
Don’t mess with Mister In-Between
You’ve got to spread joy up to the maximum
Bring gloom down to the minimum
Have faith or pandemonium’s
Liable to walk upon the scene…