Trying to come up with a topic for this column is often a gigantic challenge.

Today is one of those days.

It’s like the time I let the grandkids fill a wading pool with water, only to see the water run out when someone poked a hole in it. Like any good grandparent would, I tried to fix it. Maybe some of the amazing tape advertised on TV would have saved the $5.96 pool; I tried duct tape.

The air spewed out and wading was not to be had. This was before the grinning guy on the tube sawed a boat in half, taped it back together and rowed across the lake.

The sound of weeping kids blaming each other for the initial puncture was more than I could handle. I went and bought another pool, one with a solid plastic side that couldn’t be punctured. That lasted a bit longer, but the side of the pool bent under the weight of a 6-year-old and the water ran out anyway.

Life as an adult today is sort of like that. We fix one social problem and another pops up alongside it.

Someone told me long ago, I think it was a sociology professor, that most social problems result in clashes between the “haves” and “have nots.”

The only thing benefitting from the failed pools was the grass underneath.

Or not. It seemed the grass had been overtaken by mud.

I long ago determined that I would live my life with an attitude of gratitude, awakening to greet each new day as a bare canvas upon which I would paint another beautiful picture.

That probably would work in a small print show.

I prefer to see life as a tapestry, incorporating bright colors with dark ones to create a thing of unique beauty.

The grandkids are now teenagers and grass has replaced the mud. The memories of those glorious summer weekends when they would play in six inches of water and call it swimming are bright in the tapestry. Memories to brighten the dark times.

They are facing the variables of life. It’s hard to see one of them facing days of education, careers, even love and marriage, realizing they are on the same path I and their parents followed.

Today, the sun is shining, tomorrow may bring rain or snow. Life’s like that.

Studying life around me, I see it as a series of choices and consequences. Seeds sown and growing or wilting.

The people in power are human beings and fallible. Whatever choices they make may affect us all.

I still remember the day when I was 16 and dropped some food on the floor enroute to the dining table. It was a family dinner and most of the relatives were there.

“Oh, holy s—t!” I shouted.

My religious aunt called it “blasphemy.” The other got up and began helping me clean up the mess.

My mom looked her sister in the eye and said, “We believe God sent His son back as a real human being. As a man, he had to relieve himself.”

Dinner went on with a little less gravy.

Life’s like that.