I find it interesting to see how some people put life into perspective. And they often do it in quick response to greetings. Now whether they embrace and believe what they say or if it is rote recital, I don’t know, although I have met those who do seem to practice what they preach.

Recently, I’ve kept notes on some of the things said to me in greetings, and since I don’t think I can write an entire column about once having had butterbeans for breakfast and how that might impact one’s political philosophy, I will share them with you at this time (the quotes, not the butterbeans.)

I was down at our homeplace the other day doing a few chores when a fellow stopped by and introduced himself. I shook hands and asked, “How ya doin’?”

He said, “I’m doing really great. Some people didn’t get up this morning.”

Now that’s an appreciation of life that takes all measurements of our mortal journey right down to the baseline. In other words, no matter how bad the day can be, he is saying he’s still got a chance to improve upon it.

My dad used to say that when he got up in the morning with various pains in his body, that was God’s way of telling him he was still alive. Still in the game. Still at bat.

Just prior to starting this column, a lady stepped into my office and again the same greeting from me: “How ya doin’?”

And her response was, “Well, I’m still looking at the green side of the grass.”

When she said that, it brought to mind something quite thought provoking I had heard several years back. Two fellows were talking about opportunities and other stuff and one said something about “the grass being greener on the other side.” Upon hearing that, the other fellow said, “The grass has never been greener on the other side. Just pull some up and look. It’s always brown on the other side.”

Another fellow I greeted said he was doing really well. “Except by the grace of God, I could be living in Iraq,” he said.

Now how many people have ever considered that position in an assessment of being fortunate? Perhaps some people don’t understand that they had nothing to do with what family or nation they were born into. In the Judaeo-Christian concept, it was God that matched soul and body.

And I’ve met a few people who certainly should be glad that their grandpas met their grandmas. I won’t call any names.

As I was walking into the gym the other day for my daily workout, I greeted a senior citizen, “How ya doin’?” I asked. He replied, “I am most richly blessed.

“Me, too,” I said.

He had a smile and seemingly a limp, but obviously he was someone who considered himself still in the game and ready to play. And it’s possible to win a hand even with a pair of deuces.

Now I think most of us have greeted people and asked how they were doing and then wished we hadn’t. They covered every aspect of human physiology, the stock market, global warming and fire ants. You had waded into a sort of primeval swamp that sucks on the human condition, and you wished you had just smiled, nodded and kept moving.

Now someone is going to ask me about butterbeans for breakfast, so let me address that now.

It was down on the farm during my college days. I had done some work very early that morning before breakfast, and when I came back to the house, no one else was there. And there were no traditional grits, eggs and ham.

There was, however, leftover from the night before, a bowl of speckled butterbeans and some cracklin’ pone bread.

So I heated up the beans and had breakfast.

My rationale: Hey, some people didn’t have breakfast that morning. Additional logic: I just didn’t get through eating supper the night before.

As for any impact on one’s political philosophy, I just threw that in so I wouldn’t have to end the sentence with a preposition. I’m not sure there is any impact, depending of course on how many beans a politician might have eaten prior to his speech.