Hope (in a Hotter Time) (2007)

Abstract

W e like optimistic people. They are fun, often funny, and very often capable of doing amazing things otherwise thought to be impossible. Were I stranded on a life raft in the middle of the ocean and had a choice between an optimist and pessimist as a companion, I’d want an optimist, providing he did not have a liking for human flesh. Optimism, however, is often rather like a Yankee fan believing that the team can win the game when it’s the bottom of the ninth, they’re up by a run, with two outs, a two-strike count against a. 200 hitter, and Mariano Rivera in his prime is on the mound. He or she is optimistic for good reason. The Red Sox fans, on the other hand, believe in salvation by small percentages and hope for a hit to get the runner home from second base and tie the game. Optimism is the recognition that the odds are in your favor; hope is the faith that things will work out whatever the odds. Hope is a verb with its sleeves rolled up. Hopeful people are actively engaged in defying the odds or changing the odds. Optimism leans back, puts its feet up, and wears a confident look, knowing that the deck is stacked.