October 5, 2018
“Happiness is the art of never holding in your mind the memory of any unpleasant thing that has passed.”
I know where a lot of happy people live, they are my neighbors here at the Forum, my new senior living home. You would think folks in their 80’s, 90’s and even the 100’s would be worn out and crotchety but you would be wrong. I think these folks have discovered that the secret to a full and long life is a positive attitude, a sense of humor and unbridled optimism.
My Doctors have decided I will benefit from some physical therapy to help me regain the strength I lost since I have not been able to work out lately. I am sure it will help but probably not as much as catching the contagious optimism of my new geriatric friends.
If you’re happy and you know it…
Most of us are really great at being miserable and noticing it. Our backs ache, our feet hurt, someone was cross with us and put us in a bad mood—there are many, many levels of knowing you’re not very pleased with life. What most of us are not good at is noticing—and rejoicing at—those moments when all is well.
Little kids in Sunday school often sing, “If you’re happy and you know it clap your hands.” They all clap their hands and sing with unbounded enthusiasm. Isn’t it great that their genuine happiness can be expressed so freely?
Years ago there was a period of time when I was miserable. It was not a long period of time and I no longer know what I thought was so terrible in my life; but I remember sitting in my rocking chair rocking my little boy and being depressed. Then for some reason I found myself analyzing how I felt and comparing it to how I felt a few days before. I have never forgotten the illumination that dawned on me. I realized I had gone through a relatively long period when I was basically happy and content but I hadn’t even thought about that wonderful state and I hadn’t really even enjoyed it. I vowed if I ever felt happy again I would make the most of it. A couple of days later the tides of time did return me to happiness and I did remember to realize it.
I was young back then and now I’m old but I still make a fool out of myself enjoying my happy days. I smile, I chatter, I hum, sing and whistle and most of all, I’m happy and I know it.
“There is only one way to happiness and that is to cease worrying about things which are beyond the power of our will.”
One of my daughters is a teacher and I believe that the following is true:
Real teachers will eat anything left in the teacher’s lounge.
Real teachers grade papers in the car, during commercials, in faculty meetings, in the bathroom, and at the end of nine weeks have even been seen grading in church.
Real teachers cheer when they hear that April 1st does not fall on a school day.
Real teachers drive older cars owned by credit unions.
Real teachers never sit down without first checking the seat of the chair.
Real teachers wear glasses from trying to read the fine print in the teacher’s manuals.
Real teachers can predict exactly which parents show up at open house.
Real teachers understand the importance of making sure every kid gets a Valentine.
Real teachers know the difference between what ought to be graded, what should be graded, and what should never see the light of day.
Real teachers have their best conferences in the parking lot.
Real teachers know that secretaries and custodians really run the school.
Real teachers know the value of a good education and are appalled upon seeing their paychecks.
Real teachers hear the heartbeats of crisis; always have time to listen know they teach students, not subjects; and they are absolutely nonexpendable.
In just two days, tomorrow will be yesterday.
After going through Lamaze, Leboyer, and La Leche classes with his expectant wife, the proud new father remained by her bedside throughout the labor delivery and wanting to be as sympathetic as possible, he took his wife’s hand afterward and said emotionally. “Tell, me how it was, darling, how it actually felt to give birth.”
“OK, honey,” his wife replied. “Smile as hard as you can.” Beaming down at his wife and smile, the man followed her instsuctions. “That’s not hard.”
She continued, “Now stick a finger in each corner of you mouth.” He obeyed, smiling broadly. “Now stretch your lips as far as they’ll go,” she went on.
“Still not to tough.” he remarked.
“Right.” she snapped. “Now pull them over your head.”
A day without sunshine is like night.
A man who had been battling a mental disorder for years finally seemed to have improved to the point where it was thought he might be released. The head of the institution, in a fit of commendable caution, decided, however, to interview him first.
“Tell me,” said he, “if we release you, as we are considering doing, what do you intend to do with your life?’
The inmate said, “It would be wonderful to get back to real life and if I do, I will certainly refrain from making my former mistake. I was a nuclear physicist, you know, and it was the stress of my work in weapons research that helped put me here. If I am released, I shall confine myself to work in pure theory, where I trust the situation will be less difficult and stressful.”
“Marvelous,” said the head of the institution.
“Or else,” ruminated the inmate. “I might teach. There is something to be said for spending one’s life in bringing up a new generation of scientists.”
“Absolutely,” said the head.
“Then again, I might write. There is considerable need for books on science for the general public. Or I might even write a novel based on my experiences in this fine institution.”
“An interesting possibility,” said the head.
“And finally, if none of these things appeals to me, I can always continue to be a teakettle.”
“A worrier always seems less troubled by what happens today than by what might happen tomorrow.”
Little Johnny’s class was having an English lesson, and the teacher called on Little Johnny to recite a sentence with a direct object.
Little Johnny stood and thought, then said, “Teacher, everybody thinks you are very beautiful.”
“Why thank you, Little Johnny,” the teacher said, blushing. “But what is the direct object?”
“A good report card next month,” he replied.
“We tend to forget that happiness doesn’t come as a result of getting something we don’t have, but rather of recognizing and appreciating what we do have.”
Management is not responsible for duplicates from previous dailies. The editor is somewhat senile.
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