Choosing battles

Pulled up behind a pickup yesterday with a bumper sticker, “Save the Ta-tas.”

The reference, of course, is to fighting breast cancer and its background is a foundation funded in part by a line of clothing and other articles, such as bumper stickers.

What then caught my eye was the young woman driving the pickup, its window rolled down to allow the escape of smoke from her cigarette.

You do see the irony.

If she feels deeply enough about the fight against breast cancer to buy and place a sticker on her truck, shouldn’t she care enough about fighting lung cancer to not smoke?

But it’s never that easy.

I really care about having a healthy heart, but I love red meat and all kinds of bad foods. I try to keep things in moderation, but my gut tells me I’m not very successful ... I mean, literally, my gut.

We really care about conserving energy in our household, but we do like the convenience of having things ready to turn on, even if it eats a few more watts of power. We try to keep it down by running ceiling fans and turning off lights; we do well but could do better if we really cared enough, I guess.

We are concerned about spending our money wisely, but we are quite adept at justifying all kinds of expenses. I just bought a new smart phone; it costs more, but it should make some things simpler and more pleasant ... or so we said to ourselves.

As a nation, many of us are concerned about our bankrupt country (see last week’s column), but we are so hesitant to give up our benefits that we actually have trouble seeing everything that is paid for by taxes. What we want is to trim spending where it does not affect us.

Yes, I guess we choose our battles.

My father has often cited the claim that beer has never crossed his lips and I believe him. Until he got on several medications a few years ago, he would buy a fifth of whiskey every couple of years and used it as medicine when he had a cold or flu. That was it.

However, he has been a heavy smoker most of his adult life and I don’t believe he yet will concede that it is bad for one’s health. I’m not sure why he thinks it is he has a difficult time walking all the way to the mailbox and back.

The girl in the pickup, it seems, chose to fight against one form of cancer and, for all I know, she’s locked in a personal battle to quit smoking. I wish her more success than I’ve had losing weight.

Then again, maybe I read too much into the whole situation.

Maybe she just thought “Save the Ta-tas” was a cute bumper sticker.