It comes in to question a lot, not by me and not by people like me—usually–but a lot, by people who are in whatever ways not like me. For people more compassionate, considerate or thoughtful, respect is something earned but easily given. For those who do not have or grant it easily, respect is something worth living –or dying—for.
I think, at times, about the ways in which I have used respect: the ways I have wielded it, abused it, denied it.
Respect costs me nothing and yet it is an often overlooked, under estimated and undervalued commodity. It is a language, like the Dow, that I am learning bit by bit.
Respect is returning phone calls; being cognizant of the meaning of time and the importance of being on time; it is reliability and expectation; it is valuing advice and recognizing the value of finding something you’ve been searching for and cherishing it.
Respect is a noun and a verb.
It is the thing and the act.
Respect is—at least for me and certainly for people like me and unlike me—worthy of living –and while maybe not dying—worthy of fighting for.


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