Is it hard work? For everyone? Or is it hard work only for those who are afflicted with the disease of depression? I don’t have an answer, but this piece made me sit up and think about it, which is likely part of its purpose. I enjoy reading you Dan. You are literate, presumably honest, you turn a nice phrase. You are my poster child for the “examined life.” In this story you force me to confront my own life — probably half a century longer than yours. I have had my share of incidents a lot more depressing that riding through a desert in a hot car with a fat dog but my response to them was to move on, snap out of it. When things got bad for me, I would “leap,” change direction, change. I can’t recall a single moment when I felt unrelenting despair (the term depression was unknown to me). Maybe there is something wrong with my body chemistry. Maybe I am Pollyanna. Maybe it’s just that when you get as old as I am there are few things that can phase you. Maybe I have just forgotten all the funks that must have happened. But I know I find happiness in something every day and I don’t have to work for it. Thank you for reminding me of how fortunate I am. Keep working on it and you will learn to leap!