Pork Roll and Purpose

I couldn’t help but wonder when we became such a bunch of whiny, solipsistic navel-gazers. (I know what you’re thinking, so I’ll say it for you — “much like you when you write this column, Ms. Editor?” Yes … just like that. But no one ever really calls me Ms. Editor.)

Seriously, how much of an impact might our tomato-terrified author had if she had funneled that cash into a nonprofit organization that works to eradicate hunger in developing countries, rather than into some hypno-therapist’s pocket? Or if she spent that time delivering meals to shut-ins in her hometown rather than recounting the great tomato tragedies of her life to a stranger? I’m no psychologist, but I suspect she would feel a whole lot more, well, whole if she could crawl out of herself for a while and devote a little time, talent and treasure to help someone else. Not only would it just make her feel wonderful and more connected, but she might recognize 1) that she has it pretty damn good and 2) “Wow! I can make a difference in this world! How cool is that?!”