God Bless Me

New York has never really been nice to me.  I’ve figured it out.  Unless you are from New York, it’s never really nice to anyone.  I get it.  I’ve been to this city several times, and just when I try to forgive it, IT reminds me where I am.

Yesterday, after arriving at John F. Kennedy Airport, for some reason,  walking from the jetway to the port, I had a sneezing fit.  Ten solid sneezes and not one “God Bless You.” I knew I was back in the Rotten Apple.   Thirty seconds of not being blessed frankly upsets me.   Perhaps, I’m just a little too soft and easily bruised.  Or, it could be my deep, dark, psychological hatred for the Yankees.

Maintaining very few solid qualities, I take pride in those retained from terrific parents and a very fortunate upbringing.  One of which is blessing people when they sneeze.  The typical response is a surprised “thank you” and both the sneezer and the God Blesser seem to feel better.  Much like tithing at the church I no longer attend, it just seems, for lack of better words, right.  Rather than channeling my inner anger, and dismissing those sneezing in New York, I am going to make a change.  I am going to walk through Central Park seeking those who sneeze, and God Damn it, I am going to bless them.  I hope it’s contagious.

Peace out.  Stay right.

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