10-The50-PercentTheoryofLife

Ibelieve in the 50-percent theory. Half the time things are better than normal;the other half, they re worse. I believe life is a pendulum swing. It takes timeand experience to understand what normal is, and that gives me the perspectiveto deal with the surprises of the future.

Let’sbenchmark the parameters: yes, I will die. I’ve dealt with the deaths of bothparents, a best friend, a beloved boss and cherished pets. Some of these deathshave been violent, before my eyes, or slow and agonizing. Bad stuff, and itbelongs at the bottom of the scale.

Thenthere are those high points: romance and marriage to the right person; having achild and doing those Dad things like coaching my son’s baseball team, paddlingaround the creek in the boat while he’s swimming with the dogs, discovering hiscompassion so deep it manifests even in his kindness to snails, his imaginationso vivid he builds a spaceship from a scattered pile of Legos.

Butthere is a vast meadow of life in the middle, where the bad and the goodflip-flop acrobatically. This is what convinces me to believe in the 50-percenttheory.

Onespring I planted corn too early in a bottomland so flood-prone that neighborslaughed. I felt chagrined at the wasted effort. Summer turned brutal---theworst heat wave and drought in my lifetime. The air-conditioned died; the wellwent dry; the marriage ended; the job lost; the money gone. I was living lyricsfrom a country tune---music I loathed. Only a surging Kansas City Royals teambuoyed my spirits.

Lookingback on that horrible summer, I soon understood that all succeeding good thingsmerely offset the bad. Worse than normal wouldn’t last long. I am owed and savorthe halcyon times. The reinvigorate me for the next nasty surprise and offerassurance that can thrive. The 50-percent theory even helps me see hope beyondmy Royals’ recent slump, a field of struggling rookies sown so that some yearsoon we can reap an October harvest.

Forthat on blistering summer, the ground moisture was just right, planting earlyallowed pollination before heat withered the tops, and the lack of rain sparedthe standing corn from floods. That winter my crib overflowed with corn---fat,healthy three-to-a-stalk ears filled with kernels from heel to tip---while myneighbors’ fields yielded only brown, empty husks.

Although plantings past mayhave fallen below the 50-percent expectation, and they probably will again inthe future, I am still sustained by the crop that flourishes during thedrought.