Making Lemonade
by Dwight L. Farr, D.C.

On my way home from high school, not long after my 16th birthday, while admiring myself in the rear view mirror, I drove off the road and rolled my VW bug three times, landing in an orange orchard. I clamored out of my ruined car and began to rant. An old woman (she was probably 40 at the time) came running out of her house and upon seeing that I was relatively unscathed, declared, "You are so lucky."

I thought, Are you nuts? I worked for over a year at $1 an hour to buy this car. I even lied about my age to get a job when I was only 15. I didn't even put 5,000 miles on it and now it's wrecked. I'm too old to ride a bike. My mom is going to kill me.

Later, when I was 20, while standing near the world-famous cliffs in Acapulco where divers plunge 125 feet into churning surf, I saw a man propped against the stone steps with pillows. He had an upturned hat set before him. He had no arms or legs.
But he wasn't a beggar. In his mouth, he held a harmonica and he played Mexican tunes with unrivaled skill, moving the instrument around with his jaw and lips to reach the highest and lowest notes in perfect rhythm. Two boys whom I assumed were his sons guarded him and periodically emptied the hat as it rapidly filled with pesos.

I watched him for a long while, pondering his predicament. He appeared amazingly serene and content. Obviously, he earned a fabulous wage, probably much more than the divers who risked their lives several times a day. He was obviously well loved and taken care of, too. Had he not been physically disabled, he might have only been able to make a few pesos a day with a pick and shovel. I thought to myself, Is this man lucky?

In the recent fires that tore through San Diego County, shovels full of luck were doled out to each and every one of us. For some of us, life goes on unchanged and we may feel indeed fortunate that we have suffered little material or personal loss. Are we the lucky ones?

At times like this, we may feel like a character in a B movie whose car breaks down near a town of mostly vampires, putting us in an absurd, unnecessary position requiring heroic effort to continue on a journey we thought was well planned.

Perhaps the lucky ones are our neighbors, whose lives have reached a milestone and have entered a time of trauma and reassessment, people forced into an entirely different, albeit unintended, direction. Many friends, who must rebuild out of these ashes, now have an opportunity to create a new, better life.

At times like these, grief is necessary, healthy and helpful in purging us of accumulated
sorrows much as the fire has destroyed pests and dead vegetation, preparing the landscape for the renewal of winter rains and spring wildflowers.

Though the fire spared my home, I was forced to evacuate for five days. Like most refugees, I had little time to consider what to take and what to sacrifice to the fire. We sneaked back to the ranch each day when we could, and worked hard to save our home until thick smoke finally forced us to leave. We slept under the stars each night, miles from the danger and far from home. When we returned to a house torn apart, to the things I thought would be gone, I viewed my possessions much differently. Pushed into a position of choosing what is truly important and what is not has given me a new determination to simplify my life.

Misfortune may leave us bitter, soured on life. Yet, we have the capacity to pick up and go on, to change our views and attitudes and again taste the sweetness of life. Right now, we have all the ingredients we need to make lemonade.

As your neighbor and community doctor, in an effort to help relieve the physical and mental stress of the fire disaster, for a limited time I am offering chiropractic treatments to everyone who shared the trauma in our community for only $15. Simply bring in a copy of this article with you. In appreciation to all our firefighters and law enforcement personnel, I offer to them free chiropractic visits in my Santa Ysabel office for the remainder of November. Call (760) 765-2495 for an appointment. Blessings to you all.