This is a story about being naive.

I’m a naive person, I’ll admit it. Not naive in a “I have a bridge I’m looking into buying” sort of way, but I tend to think the best of people and situations even when the evidence clearly suggests otherwise. I’m inclined to not notice when two of my friends are fighting; I’m hardly ever in the know when a dark secret is finally revealed; my mantra when acquaintances come to me to vent is “Oh, I didn’t know it was that big of a deal.”

The Hubcap Story will show you what I mean.

When I lived in Brooklyn a year ago, I lived in a part of town that wasn’t exactly considered high-end. I didn’t care. Rent was cheap, the subway was handy, and I was happy. A friend of mine from back home came to visit and told me, rather bluntly, that I was making a mistake by living in that neighborhood.

I gave a passionate and dramatic speech on how my friend was letting his preconceptions cloud his judgment, that my neighborhood was fine, and that he was overreacting. We were walking back to my apartment at the time, and it was late. The streets were very quiet, and ahead of us on the sidewalk was a very old man with a cane. He was holding a large canvas bag in his free hand. And there was a small boy, maybe 6 or 7, walking with him with his hand on the old man’s elbow.

Suddenly, the old man’s bag ripped and a bunch of metal clanged to the ground. It was dark, and as I squinted up ahead, I figured that the things scattered along the sidewalk were a collection of old serving platters.

I hurried to pick up the things the old man had dropped, and I helped him collect them back into the remains of his bag. He thanked me very nicely and limped away with the little boy. I smiled to myself. A job well done.

I turned to my friend to say, “See? It’s a normal, nice neighborhood filled with sweet little old men who could use a hand once in awhile.”

“Teej,” my friend said.

“There’s no reason to be afraid of this place! You’re just afraid that I’m moving on with my life and leaving you behind.”

“Teej,” he tried again.

“But we’re friends! Best friends! And that will never change. So you don’t have to worry about me and the place I live, because I’ll always be right there when you need me, friend o’ mine,” I said.

“TJ!” he shouted. “Did you not see what just happened?”

I blinked.

“That old man had a pile of hubcaps.” He did that thing with his eyebrows that means idiot. “STOLEN hubcaps.”

“B-but…no he didn’t.”

“Yes he did. Why do you think he had a kid with him? Small hands.”

So I’d just helped some thief make off with his haul of stolen hubcaps. Brilliant.

But you know what? Being naive and always thinking the best of people isn’t the worst way to live. It might seem silly to all you jaded and cynical people out there, but wearing rose-colored glasses keeps you sane, keeps you hopeful, and keeps you upbeat. Did I know deep down my neighborhood was the kind of place where your hubcaps were gonna get jacked? Of course I did. But it’s not like I could have afforded to live anywhere else, so why dwell on the bad parts of my situation? If I had walked home every day sighing to myself, “Another day living in hubcap-jack city,” I would have been miserable.

Especially if I had owned a car. Which I didn’t. Because I couldn’t afford it. So that saved me some trouble!

What I’m saying is, it seems very easy to be caustic and biting and unhappy because that’s reality for the majority of us: life is hard. But it’s not so hard comparatively, so I figure you may as well believe those hubcaps are platters for as long as you possibly can.

Image credit to Cobalt123 on Flickr.