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A hope note

Our age obsesses over ‘the bottom line,’ by which usually is meant a number, usually a number of dollars.
But many with impressive bottom lines and huge portfolios live lives of quiet desperation. Balance sheets and annual reports, as demonstrated by Enron and WorldCom, can lie. Statistics can be massaged to look grand, and on the day of reckoning, implode.
There is another bottom line that trumps the financial one. Dag Hammerskjold, late secretary general of the United Nations, points to it in an entry he made one day in his journal: ‘I don’t know who ‘ or what ‘ put the question. I don’t know when it was put. I don’t even remember answering. But at some moment I did answer ‘Yes’ to someone or something, and from that hour I was certain that existence is meaningful and therefore, in self surrender, my life had a goal.’
That other bottom line is how we embrace, or excuse ourselves from embracing, the whole dance of life.
Tab Hunter, sex symbol of the late 1950s, ends his autobiography with this paragraph:
‘If you happen to spot me, in the middle of some seemingly insignificant place, lifting my face to the sky and mumbling something, don’t worry. I’m only saying ‘Thank You.’
‘That’s what life is all about.’
Maybe the ultimate bottom line is whether ‘ at the end of a day’s hullabaloo, or at the end of life’s hullabaloo ‘ we can lift a grateful face to the sky and say, with Hunter and Hammerskjold, ‘Yes! Thank you!’