The Most Toxic of Emotions

So the other night I was out to dinner with my sister of another mister, Mirta. She completed 11 days of dog and house sitting for us, and took along a gate clicker with her. We met and caught up, and got into a deep discussion about what we both agree is the worst of the deadly sins: envy.

Mirta simply excludes those who envy her from her life. She is extremely close with her sons and grandkids, and knows many begrudge her that. Dong. They're given parting gifts.

She thinks that those who envy all give the evil eye to the objects of their feelings. She's right, of course.

I know plenty of folks richer than I, and better looking, and with far more meaningful jobs. I never envy them -- I admire them, and sometimes try to emulate them.

To me, the mark of a true loser is one who makes constant excuses about why life has been unfair to them. Winners seem to find ways to win, even given setbacks. I prefer to hang with the winners.

Years ago, my college friend Edee gave me what I still consider to be one of the nicest compliments I received. I was telling her how lucky I was, especially with my childhood -- safe, secure, loving, and supportive. She countered with a tale of a guy she might have met at a bar -- an abject wreck. And he told his life story thusly: "I had it all. I was an honors student at college, with lots of girlfriends and plenty of true, close friends. But then the man I loved most in life, my father, died suddenly in my arms. That ruined my life. I started drinking and doing drugs, and have been unable to keep a job or relationship -- here I am, in the Brando named Palookaville."

She was talking about me, of course, with an alternate outcome. Her point was that I had every excuse to fail, but after mourning, I got past it.

People who envy seem to lack that ability. The setbacks define them, they don't strengthen or teach them.

Wifey recently reached out to an old friend with a breezy greeting -- saying how happy she was about the success of one of her sons, and then sharing news of Wifey's life. The friend is going through a rough time, and responded by saying, in effect, glad your life is so great. Mine's in the toilet. Have a nice day.

Wifey felt terrible -- maybe she shouldn't have shared good news with someone so down in the dumps.  I told her to adopt the wisdom of Mirta -- avoid the negativity, at all costs.

We all have demons. I battle mine daily. I guess my sunny disposition, inherited from my dearly departed mother, masks my struggles.

But I don't compare my lot to those above me. As my friend Stuart loves to say, if tomorrow Bill Gates woke up and had ONLY Oprah's bank account -- he'd have to jump out of a window.

One of my life's mentors, the late Murray Meyerson, had a favorite saying, which he read somewhere: Wisdom comes from experience. And experience comes from making bad decisions.

I love that. I try to learn from my bad calls, and gather what wisdom I can.

And a key piece of it is to adhere to the sage words of the Irish poet Brendan Behan, a former pub fly who hit it big in North America, and was told by the bartender that some of his old crowd begrudged him his success. Behan replied: "Fuck the begrudgers!"

I don't go that far. I wish the begrudgers, the envy crowd, very well. I truly do. I enjoy hearing tales of success. I love watching people who have won the Lotto.

I just ran into a neighbor during my morning constitutional. She told me her two sons have MBAs -- one works near Maitland, and the other here on Brickell. Her youngest is starting Emory Law after getting a BA from Parsons in NYC. I was thrilled for her.  I much preferred hearing those tales than stories of young folks going down toxic paths.

So here's to brightness for all. But for those who seem to be happiest in the darkness, I recall and will live by a great lyric from a diva with a big nose and amazing voice: don't rain on my parade.