Every once in a while a random thought presents itself: Why do I have it so good? The thought occurs not when I’m in church or at times like Thanksgiving, but on more mundane occasions, like this morning. It’s rainy, chilly outside. I’m dry and warm in my small, snug apartment as I contemplate my refrigerator and its variety of breakfast options. I consider not only what I feel like eating but what will fit nutritionally with my lunch and dinner plans. I happen to know where my next meal is coming from, and the next, and the next.

Who gets to live this sumptuously? Most of the people I know — family, friends, neighbors, probably you, dear reader. In fact, most Americans. So why are so many of us so angry — especially when we consider the plight of innocents around the globe. Or do we consider them?

I can’t ignore the plight of those who do not share my abundant lifestyle. They’re huddled on sidewalks not far from my building. Worldwide, the gap between “haves” and “have nots” is so deep and broad it seems unbridgeable. How can the average American shopping for groceries complain about prices for an abundance and variety of food my Depression era grandparents could never imagine?

Especially in this election season, this time when we’re offered choices, I’m mystified by the depth of cynicism and resentment among those of us who are free and economically secure. 

How can citizens sneer that only scoundrels, egomaniacs, and incompetents run for public office? I look at my ballot, especially further down, and marvel at local, well-qualified candidates in both parties. How incredible that they’re willing to go to work for me, willing to put in long hours for pay that doesn’t come close to what they could get in the private sector.

I ponder the ballot measures that would tax me and others. I see not financial burden but opportunity to join my neighbors building better infrastructure, schools, social programs. Or, I may see an inadequate proposal, a boondoggle. I have the freedom to say no. 

Is it — as the late, great journalist Molly Ivins described — that for many people, “too much is not enough?” Are we so brainwashed by our materialistic culture, by commercials that declare we “deserve” more and better, that we feel cheated?

Many people are anxious, even fearful, as election day draws near. My own retirement community issued a memo discounting the likelihood of civil disturbance. But just in case, be prepared to … etc., etc. 

One religious leader noted that no matter the election results, half the population will be celebrating and the other half distressed. If we really are as equally divided as polls suggest, I challenge the word pundits use: “polarization.” I think back to my childhood when a 50-50 split had a different meaning. It represented fairness. We shared fairly. One cookie, two kids. One kid would break the cookie as evenly as possible, giving the other kid first choice. 

I’m not naive. I recognize the stakes in this election are higher than ever in my lifetime. The cookie we’re splitting is giant. Yet no matter on which side my — and your — vote lands, we’ll still have a share. May we savor our share of the cookie, protect its deliciousness, allow its sweetness to energize us, and not begrudge others their share.