CYNERGY: Casting cautionary caveats to complainers

Cynthia Burton
Cynthia Burton

I sense a disturbance in the force. Something’s in the air. Something’s austere in the atmosphere. What is it? COMPLAINTS. Complaints come in a dazzling variety: founded, unfounded, confounded. Numerical, hysterical. Warranted, unwarranted. Specific, prolific. Symbolic, vitriolic. Paisley and polka-dot. You get the gist.

The human condition dictates that life is full of strife. The world’s on fire with ire. It’s ablaze with craze. Read the news and you’ll get your daily “un-recommended” dose of injustices, discrimination, calamities and catastrophes. Granted, many complaints are worthwhile and warranted.

However, my column will address various things that, in my humble opinion, do NOT merit a complaint. So listen up complainers: you’re about to get served. First, moaning and groaning about the local traffic does not warrant a complaint. Why? Because you live here, possibly by choice. If you’ve resided here for any length of time, you’re keenly aware that traffic snarls, snags and there’s constant congestion (and that’s NOT during tourist season). Please exercise caution and patience when this transportation phenomenon occurs. Take a back road, take a back seat, take a breath. Offer up a solution or resolution instead of offering your middle finger. Don’t be a guest contributor to the “Big Book of Terrible Traffic Trials and Tribulations.” Spoiler alert: it’s not a happy ending.

Moving on. Number 2. Waging word wars about the weather. Once again (see previous paragraph): you live here, possibly by choice. Insufferable humidity, heinous heat, imminent hurricanes and threatening thunderstorms that appear out of thin air (literally) are a normal part of life in these here parts, y’all. So why not elect to accept? The weather ballot includes: shovel snow, endure an earthquake, wear a coat year round, or luxuriate in Sunshine State weather. I know what I vote for (no hanging chads here). Pass the umbrella, the sunscreen and the insurance, please.

Number 3. Tirades against tourists. Twice again (see previous 2 paragraphs): you live here, possibly by choice. You have discovered the best times to bask at the beach, when to revel in remarkable restaurant fare and how to jockey through jammed traffic. Tourists are harbingers of revenue, return vacations, philanthropy, friendship and they’re our proverbial bread and butter. How’s that for food for thought?

Number 4. “But the sand gets into everything!” Really? You’d think there was a beach around here somewhere … no, wait! There is! Miles of crystalline white beach equals piles of sand. Sand does not discriminate. Sand likes your shoes, your swimsuit, your beach bag, your mouth and eyes, your new car, your travertine floors and your bed sheets. There is no crack or crevice that sand will not invade (ahem … literally). Sand haters, take note: sand is our state flower. It’s our “other” state motto. Sand. It’s not what’s for dinner, but it could make its way on to your plate. A day without sand is like a day without sunshine. Sand is revenue. Sand is good.

I will now end my complaining about complainers with this poignant Persian proverb: “I complained that I had no shoes until I met a man who had no feet.” You better believe that man was NOT complaining about sand in his shoes.

Cynthia Burton is a resident of Destin.