WITH NO HELP FROM ME

    

"Rush Hour", oil, by Dana Cooper

 It’s reassuring to realize, each morning, that a thousand things are all set to assist me during the day, and that they were made ready with absolutely no help from me. I sometimes smugly think of myself as my own major source and supplier of the tools of success, but it’s simply not the case -- not when I consider, for instance, my car that is cared for occasionally by master mechanics, with no help from me; the streets that have been kept smooth and clean for my car, with no help from me; the stoplights that successfully send my car and others from one intersection to another, with no help from me; the sunshine that makes it easy to see the promising spring trees, with no help from me; and the trees themselves that are making major miracles on these mild April days, with no help from me. I’m set to have a fine day each morning, mostly because of the countless tasks undertaken by people and forces unfamiliar and far away, the loyal laborers who do their duties so that ease and comfort can be a much bigger part of my life than pressure and stress.