Pure happiness

By Alice Stanebah

Longing in my lawn chair one Sunday—the newspapers stacked next to me, the cats arranged in comma shapes on the grass, the sun dappling the leaves in light and shade—I thought to myself: This is it. Pure Happiness. Not the blockbuster kind of happiness that we spend so much time searching for in love, work and a good haircut—but the smaller, more dependable happiness that lies coiled, just ready to be sprung in ordinary moments.

If happiness is as easy as this, I thought, why is it so difficult to stay happy for a long period? Is there something about the human condition that directs us away from being happy? Or do we mistakenly think of happiness as a permanent resident in our lives, rather than a visitor who comes and goes?

Happy moments—those moments when you feel fully alive—certainly exist. They swim by us every day like shining, silver fish waiting to be caught. When I surveyed my friends, what I hauled in on the subject turned out to be the small fish of happiness, not the big denizens of the deep. They said happiness is…

Coming home to see the answering-machine light blinking.

Triumphs by my kids, triumphs by me.

Blue Mountain coffee, freshly brewed.

Long drives by yourself.

Waking up without the alarm.

Seeing someone you love after a long absence.

Ultimately, what’s so wonderful about happiness is that even when you’re not searching for it, it can find you. How else can I explain the feeling I had when a small boy came up to me in the supermarket and told me he liked my shoes?

I felt happy.

(Condensed from Baltimore Sun. September 12, 1991)

Hush! We may be overheard by our fridge!

By John Voug

There’s been a lot of talk about extraterrestrial beings visiting our planet I don’t put much stock in that. I’m convinced, however, that we are surrounded by sentient things of our own making whose single aim is the harassment of the individual and, ultimately, the destruction of society.

Let me illustrate. A couple of years ago, I received a $600 insurance dividend. Sitting at the kitchen table, my wife and I discussed what we might do with the bonanza. I realize now that the refrigerator overhead our conversation. The very next day, it went berserk. The repairman told us we needed a new unit. Cost: $600.

Not long after, we got a refund from the IRS, enough to pay for a vacation in Mexico.

“I’ve something to tell you,” I said to my wife. “Privately.”

“How about the den”” she suggested. I remembered that the color television set is in the den. “No, not there. Let’s go outside.”

I showed her the check as we stood in the driveway. We hugged each other elatedly and hardly noticed the rain.

My car was parked within earshot. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. As I started for the train the next morning, the car began making devilish screeching sounds.

“The engine’s shot,” my mechanic said. “Replacing it will cost about a $ 1000.”

The car’s demise convinced me I was on to something big. I dug through our financial records. I discovered that over the past ten years our receipt of “found” money invariably was followed by equal expenditures to replace a hot-water heater, a television and a stove.

Today, I lavish compliments on all the mechanical devices in our home. And I never, ever mention financial rewards in front of them.

But if this article is published and I’m paid for it, the word processor is going to go for sure. It’ll know.

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