On The Road Blues by James Gregory

Years ago, when I was out on the road playing clubs, not making much money, and spending a lot of time alone, I'd start to get filled with self-doubt. I'd wonder what I was doing way out in Oklahoma, earning $250 a week and having to pay my expenses out of it. I'd go down to the local Waffle House and order a grilled cheese sandwich and a glass of water because I couldn't afford anything else.

I don't call what I was going through the blues. I call it feeling sorry for myself. And as time went by I learned what I had to do to snap myself out of it. I have a serious conversation with myself. You can do the same, whether you are in a diner in Tulsa, Oklahoma, or a mall in Brockton, Massachusetts.

My conversation with me starts out with a calculation of the number of hospitals within ten to fifteen miles of where I am. I remind myself that there are thousands of sick people in those hospitals. Some of those people are going to come out of the hospitals missing an arm or leg. Some will be released without hope. Some won't come out alive.

What that means is that within a few miles of where I am, there are thousands of people who would trade places with me in a second.

By the time I'm that far into the conversation with myself, I stop feeling depressed and start to feel guilty.

I may be ordering a glass of sweet tea in a Tulsa diner, or buying socks in that mall in Brockton, but in my mind I'm saying: I've got a job I like most of the time. I've got family. I've got friends. I'm pretty healthy.

I'll think about that waitress in the diner, who may have just worked a double shift to support her kids, or the person selling socks at the mall who may be worried about some tests the doctor just ran. Then I say a silent prayer that God will forgive me for whining, and remind Him to keep paying attention to those who really need Him.

Then I say this: The sun is gonna come up tomorrow. It always does. Winter will go, and spring will appear. Dogwood and honeysuckle will bloom again.