"Don't rip your pants on the fence"

345 words

Must everything be relative these days? When was the last time you asked a question and someone answered yes or no. You're on the boat or your off, you're on one side of the fence or the other—it would be pretty uncomfortable to sit on the pointed, splintered edge of a fence for long. Get off the fence!

“Hot dogs, get your hot dogs, cracker jacks, clam chowdah”….the green monster, cheering fans and players adorned in red and white—I sat down amidst a sea of fans—Section 42, row 19, seat 16. At the beginning of the game I was a mere spectator, but by the end, I was authoritatively yelling at the players and telling them what to do. Every fan is a coach—an expert. How can we tell the players what to do when we are doing absolutely nothing! Get off the sidelines!

President Roosevelt wouldn’t stand by as a spectator, a fence-sitter or a relative by-stander. “It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood….” Get in the arena!

Get in the game! Be a player. Be an actor. Be a doer. Don't just talk. Don't rip your pants on the fence—choose a side and then jump off into the world of decision. You are in control of your life. You are accountable for your choices—or the lack thereof.

Relative is safe. Relative is tolerant. Relative does not offend—hang the word “relative” on the sharp, jagged edge of a fence! Tolerance used to be a virtue—could it be a vice? Perhaps we are so tolerant that we’ve become complacent. Tolerance is intertwined with relativism, together leading to a world of inaction. Can anything be absolute? True? Unwavering? Without doubt? Maybe...I think so...I'm not really sure...I'll have to think about it—YES!

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