Oil prices are skyrocketing, which means we'll be taking out small loans to drive across the island in a few weeks, and scraping together frequent flier miles to get to the Mainland.

The price tag for throwing a modest pupu party for "Lost" nights on Thursdays is looking more like I'm putting together a five-course meal. Which is impossible because I don't cook.

My 401(k) is on a rocket ship to the bowels of the Earth.

Housing costs have run amok, traffic clogs the freeways, wasting ever more precious petrol. The recession will start hitting jobs: tourism, retail, service — nothing will be spared.

Economic Armageddon? Maybe.

But don't think twice, it's all right. (Nod to Bob Dylan here.)

Not to be dismissive of the challenges and stresses of modern life. It's just that it's not so bad. In fact, at its worst, it's still pretty great.

That laundry list of complaints above is impressive by any standard measure. People talk about them. This paper covers them. You can turn on any cable news network and they're crawling over them like flies.

These things MATTER.

But would you complain about them to, say, a soldier returning from Iraq missing a leg and part of his face?

Or to a refugee who escaped the genocide in Darfur who now must scramble for food from the desert?

Or to a Republican in this election year?

All kidding aside, I would never whine about any of it to my grandmother. She was a child of the Great Depression. As a girl, she left New Mexico when her dad's attempt at ranching failed, to take up an irrigation project in Utah. They were surrounded by large families going hungry, so my great-grandpa would hunt for meat in the mountains to supplement what little food there was.

Those struggles are real. What would I do if I suddenly had to forage for food? I'd have to go begging and pray some farmer in Waimanalo would take pity and make me a salad. Or shack up with a guy who hunts wild boar in the Ko'olau.

Is that a realistic prospect? No. Modern life is much different than life in the 1930s. But it points to an irrevocable truth: We've got it pretty good, right here and now.

Think what we can do, starting with that simple optimism. Then these "problems" may just be "opportunities" — chances to do things smarter. Save, instead of spend. Recycle, instead of dump. Laugh, remembering your blessings, instead of fixating on your problems.

Problems that in the bright light of perspective, don't measure up.

Reach Christine Strobel at cstrobel@honoluluadvertiser.com.