Thanks Mom, It Could Be Worse by Nannette Croce

Whenever I whined about inevitable miseries of childhood––the last day of summer vacation, the Christmas tree coming down––my Mom had a standard reply. “Would you rather be so-and-so?” (So-and-so being a child, usually about my age, who had suffered some terrible fate like a major illness or a death in the family.) Thinking back it was hardly original, just replacing the old Pollyanna, “let’s find the silver lining,” with a more typically Italian, operatic twist. I chafed at the injustice, but it worked, not just in shutting me down––my Mom’s immediate purpose––but in weening me from a "poor me" attitude.

Since then I’ve faced more painful events than the end of summer vacation, but Mom’s “it could be worse” outlook has kept everything in perspective, and, I believe, helped me heal more quickly. It’s not healthy to shut out grief entirely, and we shouldn’t beat ourselves up over a slight funk even for small things like rain ruining our vacation or a child going off to college for the first time. But looking outside myself has taught me that there can be good things even in the very bad, like the friends you didn’t know you had, who come to your aid.

So, thanks Mom, for always pointing out that “it could be worse.” Your motives may not have been pure, but the benefit was long-lasting.