A smile. Makes a difference.

It's a habit. An addiction. Sometimes dangerous. Yes, maybe all-too-often, I speak and write my mind. Without considering the consequences. Hurt feelings, for instance. But that's life. I have a thick skin. Criticism doesn't bother me much. Even when it's unwarranted. But so very many of my friends and acquaintances are thin-skinned. They wound easily. Maybe I should be more considerate. And kinder. In my dealings with them. Even if I have to be less honest. And tell white lies. So that they feel better.  I do. With sick people. By telling them they look good. When they don't. But I seldom do that with friend Julie. I boldly proclaim that she looks awful. As if she was just freed from a concentration camp. I encourage Julie to look in a mirror. To study her face. And to force a smile. Because that always makes her look a little bit better. And younger, too. --Jim Broede