I heard a story about a 28 year long conflict between the people of Pakistan and India over a frozen border. Although no shots have been fired in years, 3,000 soldiers have died from the extreme weather conditions. The altitude is 20,000 feet and the temperature can plunge to fifty below zero. A few years ago an avalanche crashed into 140 people and
buried them under ice and rock.
It is hard for me to understand why they would deploy battalions to protect a glacier. Does it matter? Is the sense of ownership worth the exorbitant price? Pakistan is spending $5 million a month.
While I struggle to comprehend the importance of staking a claim to a mountain, I am well versed in needing to be right. One time I was driving the car that John usually uses, and it was on empty. I
was annoyed. Why did he let it get so low? He should have filled it days ago. I was taking Benjamin on an errand and I imagined what it would be like to run out of gas, and have to call him to leave work to rescue me. That would show him.
Show him what?
A wicked corner of my brain was actually disappointed when I arrived safely at the store and then all the way to the gas station without incident. I did not get to be right about
him leaving me an empty tank.
I suppose being right would be about as satisfying as standing on a craggy ledge of the Himalayas in a subzero storm, proclaiming to the clouds that this land belongs to me. But being right can cost you a lot, as evidenced by the book
You Can Be Right or You Can Be Married.
