Let’s Talk About Something Happy!
Fern: I remember my mom and her friends in their late seventies sitting around a swimming pool in Florida where she and my dad retired. At that age (the age we are now) there was both kvetching and sadness about loss. In an attempt to shift the conversation, my mom said: “Let’s talk about something positive!” Then, over their murmurs of agreement, she began, “Everyone have their plots?”
Joe: I loved your mom. She was so much fun.
Fern: So let’s change the conversation now. I’ve about had it with politics. After the presidential debate, the recent Supreme Court ruling, the cruelty of anti-abortion decisions . . . well, I believe that this country is in deep doo-doo. And it’s been piling up for a long time with no one collecting the doggie bags.
Joe: I thought you wanted to talk about something happy?
Fern: I do. I do. Now that we’re also in our late seventies . . .
Joe: Actually I’ll be eighty in November.
Fern: What I originally wanted to to suggest was: Let’s write today about things that make us happy at this time of our lives. The blessings. My Friday friends (and a shout-out to Jona’s sister).
What are you grateful for?
Joe: Pie.
Fern: That’s your first thought? Pie?
Joe: Pecan pie. And the lemon bars made the other night by our friend Janice. She’s a great baker.
Fern: Simple pleasures. Ok. I like a vodka martini with a twist of lemon.
And gardening. Which I came to it quite late. I buy whatever pretty growing thing strikes my fancy. I’m too old to remember the all those names. I over-do. Lots of color. If something is drying up, too bad. I throw it away. Digging in the rich, dark Iowa earth makes me happy.
I spend a lot of money on plants but I save on manicures. I’ve only had two manicures in my entire life! That is a very unusual statistic for a Jewish girl from Long Island.
And mulch. Mulch makes me happy. My theory is that there’s never enough mulch.
Joe: I like to watch old favorites on tv. Reruns of Seinfeld and I love Lucy from the Fifties still make me laugh out loud.
Fern: And The Sopranos. The best series ever on television. We must have watched each episode two or three times.
Joe: I like to reread favorite books and stories. I first read Homer when I was maybe fourteen, and a time or two since then. Now I’m in the middle of reading The Iliad and The Odyssey yet again, and enjoying them from a whole new viewpoint. As a kid I loved all the gore. Now I’m more drawn to the precision of Homer’s descriptions and the power of his language, even in translation: “And black blood dripped from both his murderous palms.” Great stuff—hm?
Fern: Why should I be surprised that you still have such boy tastes?
Joe: No apologies. When I retired—after decades of grading student papers—I vowed that with the time I had left I’d read only what I felt like reading.
Fern: We’re both readers. No surprise there. I appreciate that those are our interests in common. Books and movies. Rather than . . . say . . sports. Or collecting Hummels.
But I do miss movies.
Joe: We watch movies all the time.
Fern: I miss going to the movies. Leaving the house to see a movie. Especially comedies. Sitting in the dark with strangers, all of us laughing at the same thing. I like that.
Joe: Other things: Signs or notices that nobody anywhere can possibly be unhappy to see, like End Road Construction.
Or the simple word: Benign. Everyone likes hearing that word. Especially said by a medical professional.
Or, one of my very favorites: Breakfast Served All Day. Whose burden doesn’t lighten just a little just to look up and see that? I used that one to title a painting I made.
Fern: I love words that move me. Some people might think it’s easy to write poetry. I mean, poems are short and they don’t even have to rhyme. Still, a lot of poetry is either either sappy or too obtuse for any normal person to understand. I’ve had a subscription to The New Yorker for most of my adult life and I never get the poetry.
But here’s a lovely poem by Gwendolyn Brooks. I don’t know the title, but I have it tacked to my bulletin board. Good to remind ourselves in today’s times.
Say to them,
say to the down-keepers,
the sun-slappers,
the self-soilers,
the harmony-hushers,
"even if you are not ready for day
it cannot always be night."
You will be right.
For that is the hard home-run.
Live not for battles won.
Live not for the-end-of-the-song.
Live in the along
Joe: I love having a grandchild who lives only minutes away. Seeing Joey, my namesake, for an afternoon. Seeing the person he is becoming. And this without the investments of parenting that sometimes blinds you.
Fern: I like good talk. I mean, I like to talk but I also like good conversation, back and forth. At dinner parties. I talk on the phone probably more than the average person. Real talk, not texting. Even small talk with strangers—you know everyone has a story.
I also enjoy examining the plot lines of something we’re watching on tv.
Joe: I’m grateful for the mute button on the remote.
Fern: Was that a dig?
Joe: Not at you, hon. It’s more the driving back-ground music. That mute button is instant relief.
Oh, and I am grateful to have enough money so we do not have to worry about having enough money. A quote from a Faulkner short story always stuck with me, “The old thrill and the old despair of a penny more or less.”
Fern: How much money is enough?
Joe: For me it means being able to buy that expensive goat-hair paintbrush; going all in at a Hold’em tournament and being able to smile and shrug when your four kings lose to a royal flush. (Yes, it happened—see below.) Having enough means that when you find a twenty-dollar bill on the street you can add it to the next tip you leave at a pancake house.
Fern: I really like when we finish a column. In truth, I don’t like the act of writing at all. Being a writer is like having a term paper due all the time. But I love having written.
Joe: I like having written as well. Let’s have a drink. I’ll make you a martini.
Honest, un-sappy joys! Love this: : “I miss going to the movies. Leaving the house to see a movie. Especially comedies. Sitting in the dark with strangers, all of us laughing at the same thing. I like that.”
Thanks, Fern and Joe. From your first to your last thoughts - this column is a keeper. Love the poem by Gwendolyn Brooks and the picture of Joe and Joey! Each is perfect in their own way.