Seeing the Good Anew

"The painful flaws in our conception of value...call less for a new conception of the good than for a new way of seeing the good."
---Erazim Kohak in "Perceiving the Good," in The Wilderness condition: Essays on Environment and Civilization, ed. Max Oelschlaeger, 1992.

We are not lightly inconvenienced or disappointed. My head is bowed at the humbling recognition.

Catching the train last week for Chicago -- or so we had anticipated - we arrived early at the station, a short hour away, only to find a handwritten notice posted announcing that there would be no such train that day; that a bus would be substituted as our proud carrier, and that it was running three hours late. A toll-free number invited queries. I availed myself of the opportunity. We had, after all, taken vacation days, boarded the dog, gotten up early to ride the train. If I had wanted to ride a bus I would have bought $8 tickets on the discount bus service recently commenced between Des Moines and Chicago. And saved myself the hour drive. All this information I shared with the customer service representative who eventually answered after a decade on hold and an interminable trip through Muzak's musical Hell. I contend that I was polite, but I think she recognized my displeasure. Never mind that tracks were flooded out between here and there preventing passage -- no surprise with all this rain; and never mind that the carrier had arranged a reasonable substitute...and provided complimentary sandwiches when we eventually boarded. It wasn't what I wanted, and that, after all, is the only thing in all of creation that finally matters.

We eventually arrived, we enjoyed immensely what we did, where we went, where we stayed; and until the final evening, the weather cooperated. But then the rains returned. We arrived at the restaurant where we would close out our holiday to find barely-contained bedlam. The rain had eliminated the patio as a dining option -- that same patio that had been booked with reservations -- requiring last minute rearrangements and seating delays. One silver-haired woman, apparently accustomed to controlling heaven and nature, was having her way with the maitre-d. I opted to remain far enough away to avoid the splattering blood, and therefore couldn't hear what she had to say, but her face pretty well said it all. In undulating waves of aggravated displeasure, she presented herself at the desk for requisite satisfaction -- because, after all, her satisfaction is the only thing in all of creation that finally matters -- as though the restaurateur had any more control over the rain than...

...Amtrak had over the flooded rails. It was then and there that I was duly chastened. It was then and there that I realized how perfectly acceptable had been the carrier's alternative, and how above-and-beyond they had gone to make the best of an unfortunate situation, and how perfectly delightful had been our trip.

And when we were eventually seated at a table on that final, rainy night away, I counted my blessings, embraced this new way of "seeing the good," and savored the utter delight of every bite.