Try a Little Tenderness

Yesterday I was riding my bike down the street when a woman opened her car door and knocked me right on my ass. She felt really awful about it -- and I told her that I could just have easily been on the other end of an accident like that -- it isn't as if I've never parked my car and opened the door without thoroughly checking to be sure that no bicyclists were about to sail past.

It was scary, though, and as is the case with all accidents, it made me more appreciative of just how easily I glide through life most of the time, blissfully unaware of all of the potential peril that could befall me and has befallen others. I was grateful that the worst of it, for me, is multiple trips to the chiropractor, a sore hip/butt, and a few stiff joints.

It also made me want to reach out for the comfort of loved ones. Which I did, and it helped. This tune came to me today too, and though for a moment I was in danger of heading straight into that familiar feeling of what's missing, I stopped myself, I felt the tenderness all around me, and I vowed to continue to be tender with myself.

Because while I wouldn't count myself out of this group of girls about which Otis sings:

You won't regret it, no no

Some girls they don't forget it

Love is their only happiness, yeah

But it's all so easy

All you gotta do is try, try a little tenderness, yeah

I also know that a lover is not the only source of love available to me. Not by a long shot.

Here's an awesome video of Otis performing this song live in 1967, which is, I believe, the year that a man who has the tenderness (for others) piece down took his first steps. A precursor to flight? I reckon that's exactly where all those baby steps are headed...