It’s the week after Thanksgiving. Leftovers have dominated post-holiday meals. One day at lunchtime I ask my wife, “What’s left?”
That’s how I read the sign above.
What’s left? We’ve had drought; we’ve had flood. We’ve fought this war; we’ve fought that war. What’s left?
Depending upon the inflexion in one’s voice, it can be hopeful (Oh boy, what’s left?!) or it can be a sign of resignation (It’s been hell…what’s left?)
One thing is sure: you have no control over what’s left. Whatever is there is there because someone else put it there, or left it there. The control that you have is that you don’t have to go there. You can go right. You can go straight ahead. You can sit on your hands. You can turn around and retreat. Or, as the Monty Python players might say, “Run away! Run away!”

What’s left? Well, if you’re the curious or adventurous type, go left and find out. Who knows, you may have the time of your life!