Scene: A street corner near the elementary school in a small town in upstate New York. Morning. The bell has just rung. A tall, rumpled, grumpy-looking father with circles under his eyes (Me) makes his way down the hill from the school toward the corner, after walking his boys to school. He greets the crossing guard, a stocky, white haired grandfatherly type.
Me: How are you today?
Crossing Guard: Oh, can't complain.
Me: Wow. That makes you different from 99 per cent of the population.
Crossing Guard (grinning): Hey, I figure, if you can get yourself out of bed in the morning and take in some nourishment without someone else holding the spoon, you're doing all right.