This intrigued the heck out of me because that's usually where I come from. It amazes me when people invoke the "it's not fair" clause, particularly for really silly stuff, which they all too often do;
"It's not fair that Starbucks raised the price of the venti extra hot soymilk extra syrup dolce extra cinnamon latte by 21 cents!"
"It's not fair that Avril Lavigne won't play a concert in Hamilton!"
"It's not fair that Arsenal didn't win Champions League" (okay, that one wasn't fair)
The problem is that "fair," which really should be reserved for invocations of requisite or breached social justice, has been totally trivialized.
Looking at "fairness" heuristically, we should be able to learn, first, that fairness is really amorphous and, second, that the "too bad" rule usually trumps in a rock-paper-scissors battle between what we hope might happen and what actually does.
Mr. Charles Brown, famed eight-year-old baseball pitcher, field goal kicker, and wearer of stylin' retro sweaters, understood that a mantra of "it's not fair," would solve zero percent of his problems. He persevered. Over and over and over again. No matter what he tried, his colleague, a Ms. Lucy, would always move the ball at the last minute thereby causing Mr. Brown to have a frightful spill.
I have also admired a Dr. Wile Everett Coyote, omnivorous consumer of all products Acme. In an eternal quest for a nice BBQ tenderloin of roadrunner, we never once see him hold up a "it's not fair" sign. Sure, once in a while, just before the TNT explodes, we see a resigned, perhaps even melancholy, facial expression. But we never see him call the quality control guy at Acme and tell him "it's not fair." We never see him email RAPID (Roadrunners Against Poaching and Improper Dining) bemoaning the bounce and quick of that bird (Roadrunner be wicked fast). No, he just goes back to the drawing board (literally) again and again and still again.
When my mom was diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer on a cold late September day three years ago and she was gone by Christmas, I don't remember ever think or saying the word "fair"; life revolved around the expediencies of survival and managing morhpine and oxygen levels.
So how interesting that in my five days (it seems MUCH longer) here in China, tonight was the first time I've even heard the word "fair." I didn't even notice it was missing. It's as if "fair" were sugar and I'd just so taken to that Coke Zero in all of its sucralose-y goodness.
But I turn on CNN at the gym and see my 92nd installment of how unfair the whole "gas prices-protracted Democratic primaries-credit crunch-absence of subprime loan availability-the Easter Bunny isn't real-Zimbabwe is bit behind on their loan repayments-it costs four percent more this year to have a backyard BBQ-the next US President will be older than Methuselah when sworn in" thingy is and I'm just struck dumb given that I can change the channel one up or one down and get an essentially live feed from Sichuan.
I can't help but be drawn tonight to one of my favourite novels of all time, Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby. My mind drifts to Nick Carraway's stunningly brilliant narrative first lines which, I would humbly opine, wrap up this blog entry quite well:
"In my younger and more vulnerable years, my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind ever since. 'Whenever you feel like criticizing anyone,' he told me, 'just remember that all the people in this world haven't had the advantages you've had.' While reserving judgments is a matter of infinite hope, I've come to admit that my tolerance of human behavior has its limits."
ANS
