Moments

By Jeff Long

"Gloom, despair, and agony on me.

Deep dark depression, excessive misery.

If it weren't for bad luck,

I'd have no luck at all.

Gloom, despair, and agony on me."

Written by late country singers Roy Clark and Buck Owens, the above lyrics were featured on the 1969-1997 long running TV show "Hee Haw." In my mind's eye, I still see four men in overalls holding moonshine jugs and singing that ditty -- all the while lamenting the cruel vicissitudes of life.

The song is meant to be funny in an intentionally over-the-top way. And it is. Yet it is relatively easy to fall into the kind of self-pity this refrain suggests, where everything is doom and gloom. Sometimes we wallow in this attitude about matters that are significant and about others that are truly not that important.

Last Sunday was an example of latter. My wife and I were sitting in the nosebleed section of Paul Brown Stadium on a drizzly and chilly afternoon in Cincinnati, Ohio. My beloved Pittsburgh Steelers were playing the division-leading (and host) Bengals. Historically, Pittsburgh almost always wins this AFC North matchup but a week ago, it appeared our luck had run out.

The Bengals had scored with just one minute and eighteen seconds left to take a one-point lead. My dear spouse, usually an upbeat and optimistic individual, is resolutely negative about the Steelers, whom she loves. "They've blown it again," she cried. How many times has she said this over the 41 years we've been together? Answer: I can't count that high.

I know the source of her pessimism. The Steelers have disappointed her so often that she refuses to get her hopes up. It is, of course, a trusty defense mechanism. You can't get hurt if you refuse to harbor hope.

At this moment, in front of us at the stadium was a woman by herself, dressed entirely in Steelers gear. In a flash, she became the Ohio version of John the Baptist, the lonely voice proclaiming a coming Messiah in the first century Judean desert. Except this female John was predicting victory from the jaws of defeat:

"It's only one point, folks! Only one. You've got to have faith!"

Yeah. Uh-huh. Take it from me, this stranger was decidedly on her own in this positive outlook. The rest of us knew it was all over. As nearby Bengals' fans exulted, we were packing up our gear, putting away our cell phones, and preparing to suffer through this moment of bad luck, the only kind my wife says the Steelers ever have.

And then, with 10 seconds remaining in the game, it happened. Pittsburgh scored a touchdown. The "Hee Haw" song was suddenly out of my head, replaced with, well, I can't remember now. All I recall is that we were jumping around, shouting "Wow!" and "Did you see that?" Formerly morose Pittsburgh fans were now exchanging high fives and joyful backslaps. Even my wife gave an extended hug to the still-unknown woman who preached her lonely, John-the-Baptist-like optimism.

I'll remember that woman who risked derision and catcalls to share her vision as dark clouds joined a rainy mist on the banks of the Ohio River. I'll also recall the instant community formed with people I'll never see again. But we had a moment.

Perhaps that's not a bad description of what life really is -- a series of moments. Moments to be lamented and treasured. Moments in which gloom can occasionally give way to sudden and brilliant sunshine.