The winter of our discontent

It seems like everywhere I look lately, there are people who are just not happy with their lot in life. I was one of these people, until I realized what it was making me so unhappy in the first place, I think I may have found out the secret to being happy.

Everyone is obsessed with not just the good, but the better, or even better, the best, or the perfect. They are missing what is truly amazing standing right in front of them. We have lost the sense of gratitude. It is very easy to complain about things, when they are upsetting us, and we dwell on them. In the last six months or so, I have come to realize that while things are not always perfect, they sure as hell can be a lot worse, and I should just stop obsessing about them.

One of my kids, was smoking pot, I took him to counseling, and after listening to the other parents, was thrilled he was not selling his booty for meth, like some of the kids were. Now while I am committed to working on the pot issue, it has the option of being a whole lot worse. No crack, no smack, no psychotic violent episodes... He is not hitting me, stealing my car, in jail, or on the streets. A few bad grades I can work on. I know to some parents, marijuana sounds like the end of the world, but placed in the proper perspective, it is not that bad.

I get very frustrated with my house. Something always needs fixing. But hey, it beats living in my car at the park. Assuming I had a car.

A friend of mine has ovarian cancer, and is slipping away a bit every day, I am healthy by comparison. If it were not for her, I doubt I would be as grateful as I am. She told me one afternoon, that even though she knew she was dying, it gave her an incredible motivation to mend fences and resolve things with the people she loved. The information empowered her with it's finality.

If Kathy can be cheerful about dying at 45, one year older than I am, what kind of weenie am I to complain about anything at all? Of course, it is easier to be cheery on morphine, I will grant you. But during my illness this summer, her independence and morale was an inspiration to me, and propelled me along some days.

I love my kids, my friends, the rest of my family, my home. My music. My cats, the guinea pig, the bird, and the new dog. I have food in the fridge, the utilities are not shut off, the car payment is made, so face it things could be a hell of a lot worse, and I am not going to sit around and whine about it.

This last six months, I have learned a lot. I know who loves me, and who is loyal to me. Sadly, these are not the people I have always loved and been loyal to in return. I know what I can do to make things better in my life, a little bit each day, and I know what I am not able to do or change, and make an effort to work around it and not let it bother me so much.

Moreover, I have learned to experience contentment, even if I have to do it in tiny doses every day. Tomorrow might suck, but I am determined not to look at it as if it was the end of the world, and see if I can learn something I might be able to use the day after.

Nancy Drew, Girl Sleuth

I was wondering what it is that shapes who we are, what we like, what we do.

I could not figure out how I became such an obsessive reading geek, and I looked at the top of my bookcase and realized, I could pin it down to one particular set of books.

When I was just turning 8, a lady who lived in one of the apartments my parents owned, her name was Joanne Huney, was going to throw out a set of books, on a whim, she decided to stop by and ask my mother if maybe she wanted to save them for me when I got a bit older, and my mother gladly took them, probably hoping to save herself a few weekly trips to the library.

And there I found them, in a box in the hall, neatly stacked, smelling old, yellowed pages, with the orange silhouette of a young woman holding a magnifying glass. I grabbed volume one, and took to my room. I remember clearly, it was during the Easter break, so I was home alone most of the days. That morning it was raining, preventing me from going out to terrorize the neighbourhood. It was called, The Secret of the Old Clock.

It was my very first chapter book, and it was rough going, but I read it all in one day. All the words I did not know, I stopped to look up. I finished it about 9:30 at night, arguing with my mother about bedtime, because I was "almost done" with the book.

I was hooked. Now here was an interesting character! Only 16 and courageous, smart and very curious. I dove into each volume with enthusiasm, until summer had begun and I had exhausted the supply. I demanded to go to the library, and hit the shelves. I found I did not like the newer editions, set in a more modern period, but preferred the originals from the thirties and forties.

I did not realize until now, how much the books we read as children become a part of us, and are taken to heart much more than at any other time in our lives. I think back on books I read, things like Caddie Woodlawn, the Henry and Ribsy series by Beverly Cleary, Harriet the Spy, A Girl Called Al.

As I hit ten, I remember crying when Beth died in Little Women, feeling the joy when Jane Eyre and Mr. Rochester were reunited, the almost tangible pain when Heathcliff dies, and Cathy's eventual decline into desperation. A book to me, was a window into seeing things through another person's eyes and thoughts.

Now looking back, I see what Nancy Drew did to me. She taught me self reliance, courage, manners, analytical thinking, a host of things. I see her now as the ideal female role model. A girl who can do anything a man could do, and yet never lose her femininity. Her loyalty and concern for her friends and loved ones. She never forgot to be kind and sensitive to others, could wade through mud or bugs, and then go on and throw on a party dress, moving from each situation with ease and self assurance. All these years later, I find myself striving to be just those things.

I don't know how favorably I will ever compare to Miss Nancy Drew, but I can continue to at least try. I did have a blue convertible for a while, but I don't think it is the same thing.