Essay

It could have been worse

By John Gathright

Recently, one night, I happened on a touching scene: a girl all in tears, her teddy bear lying in a muddy puddle, while her mother was occupied with a conversation on her mobile. An old woman approached, stooped and bent, and said to the girl, "We're very lucky. It could have been worse. I don't think it's hurt."

The old woman handled the bear with care. She saw the little tag on its bottom that said it was washable and exclaimed, "He's a bath bear. You can have a bath with him tonight. That'll be fun, won't it, for both of you?"

By this time the little girl had stopped crying and they began to talk: about bears and baths, bears and ribbons, bears and honey shampoo — until the little girl and her mother got on the train. The old woman watched the train pull out of the station, then she went to her own platform to wait for her train.

"It could have been worse." With those words my mind was flooded with memories. It was 36 years ago, back when I was a little boy in Canada, living in the basement of a house and talking to a man by the name of Mr. Ross.

Mr. Ross was well on in years. He was physically very small but he had a huge heart and a terrific smile, and he was always positive.

When a truck backed over my bike, he said, "You're lucky. It could have been worse. It's just the front tire and the handle bars that are bent." When the crow I rescued died, "Oh, you're a lucky boy. It could have been worse. What if it had died yesterday without warm milk in its stomach and you as a friend."

Mr. Ross was always there, with a quick and kind word for a sad or lonely heart. For a young boy starting a new life with a new dad, in a new country, at a new school, Mr. Ross was a blessing and a mentor. And I wasn't the only one who thought highly of him. He was loved by all the children in our street, and his words, "It could have been worse," have become part of my family's life

Thirty-six years later, I still hold those words dear. I still find comfort in "It could have been worse," and I find myself saying this to myself and to friends and family.

I've even abbreviated "It could have been worse" to "CBW" when I write, and any e-mails or letters that are sent or received to comfort in times of need, my family call "CBW mail."

CBW is especially important for me and my family at the moment. My two sons have returned to International School after a brief and unhappy stint at a Japanese school, and they have been struggling to catch up. My wife and I have been worried about them

But then I think how many things could have been worse and how surely things will get better over time. The situation is not just CBW but it's WGB (Will Get Better) too.

Shukan ST: Dec. 1, 2006

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