Four People, One Stupid Observation

I’ve a sore back and I’m a bit irritated at the moment, but not because of the lower back pain, but another more irritating pain, namely people. I spent today locked in combat with the leaves in our garden, a battle I was destined to lose, as four separate pedestrians felt compelled to inform me. There I was, hunched over, rake in hand, working the grass verge out front. This is where things got interesting, by which I really mean deeply irritating.

The first passerby offered his observation with the casual confidence of someone delivering profound wisdom: “What’s the point? Sure, more leaves are going to fall.” I smiled. I nodded. I may have even chuckled in that way you do when you’re pretending someone has said something delightful rather than something that makes you want to fling your rake at them.

Then came pedestrian number two. “What’s the point? More leaves are going to fall.” By the third iteration, I’d begun to wonder if I was trapped in some very dull episode of The Twilight Zone. The fourth person sealed it. Same comment. Same self-satisfied tone. On each occasion I agreed with them. “You’re absolutely right.” And then I carried right on working, because, and this seemed to have escaped my stream of sidewalk philosophers, there’s always a point.

To me, it’s a spectacularly poor attitude to think there’s no point in trying. I couldn’t help wondering how many of these people applied this logic elsewhere. Take housing. Saving for your first deposit requires financial discipline and the patience of someone waiting for the repair company. But adopt the “what’s the point?” philosophy, and you’ve signed yourself up for a lifetime subscription to the Rent-Forever plan, missing out entirely on property value gains.

Or retirement savings. “What’s the point? I’ll never save enough anyway.” Well, yes, if you don’t save anything, that prediction will be remarkably accurate. It’s the same logic as saying, “What’s the point of eating? I’m just going to get hungry again.” Technically true, but missing something rather fundamental about survival.

The leaves will fall again. Absolutely. Probably tomorrow. But here’s what my advisory committee of sidewalk philosophers failed to grasp: the point isn’t achieving some permanent, leaf-free utopia. The point is that right now, my garden looks better. The grass can breathe. I’ve done something rather than nothing.

Small, consistent efforts compound into something resembling progress, or at least prevent complete disaster. Acknowledge that more leaves will fall, that’s just life. But if your response to every difficult task is to shrug and say, “What’s the point?” you’re in for a messy garden, an empty savings account, and a very long lifetime of wondering why nothing ever works out.

Me? I’m going to keep raking. Tomorrow, when the leaves have fallen again, I’ll probably rake those too. Because the alternative is surrendering to shortsightedness, and shortsightedness doesn’t need my help…anyway, What’s the point?