Childhood Happiness and Dreams

What is Happiness?

 "Try to be a rainbow in someone's cloud." –Maya Angelou.

When someone asks, “Are you happy?” I want to answer, “Right this minute? This week? Yesterday?"

Because I don’t believe anyone is happy all the time. Even when I was a child, I was not happy all the time. 

First, I had older brothers who loved to tease me. They often made my life miserable, and I had a father who seldom seemed happy. He was always worried and serious about the farm, the future of the farm, and the business he and his sons had built together. I believe he had an anger management issue. He was quick to take off his belt and whip one of his sons. In those days corporal discipline was accepted at home and in schools. Being compassionate and also concerned for myself, I often ran to my room and cried.   

Gay, my little sister, and I played together every day, and I enjoyed that. I suppose I was happy then, but I never asked myself, “Are you happy?”

 

My baby sister, Gay

Looking back, I remember having such fun playing with the bottles, my sister June’s cosmetic bottles on her dresser. We had to hurry and put them all back in place before she arrived home in the afternoon.

June Council my older sister

I was a happy little tyke when I rode Charlie, the big white horse, led home from the field by my father. After a long hot day of plowing the hard-packed dirt of South Georgia, both man and horse were wet with sweat and tired. But I felt like I was the king of the world sitting high on the horse, higher than I had ever been, and looking down on my father and all the world around me.

 

My love for horses never ended. As a teen, I borrowed a horse. 

The ride to the barn was short. There I was lifted off the horse, and Charlie was put into the large stall in the center of the barn. I don’t remember anyone ever brushing him or wiping him down. He was fed in a trough hanging on the wall of the stable and he could go outside to a water trough, a large syrup kettle which had been used by some farmer who raised cane and made cane syrup at harvest time each year. I never knew where it came from.

Glenda and Gay ready for school

 

I became terribly unhappy when I went to first grade at Mulberry Elementary School in east Albany. It was fine the first week. I enjoyed swinging in the large swing set on campus at recess. I learned to read quickly. I was placed in the reading group with the faster learners. I read the entire reading book right away and then class was boring. I hated to have to sit while others read haltingly about Dick and Jane and Spot, the dog. Run, Spot, run. Run, run Spot.

Looking back, I think that was my problem. At six years old, I was just bored with school. Reading was all we studied in first grade, and I found myself sitting and staring out the window most of the time. As I stared out the window, my mind wandered back to the farm, to my little sister, and to Mother. I became so unhappy I began to cry. When Mrs. Pate noticed me crying, she asked, “Glenda Lou, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

I told her I didn’t know but I wanted to go home. And that was the beginning of many years of being unhappy in school.

At home, once I learned to write in third grade, I found my happiness in writing stories in my composition book. Once I learned to read books that had once been read to me, I filled my time each summer devouring as many books as I was allowed to get off the bookmobile that came to our house on the farm. I lost myself in books about horses.  

Misty of Chincoteague by Marguerite Henry was published in 1947. When I learned to read, I devoured that book. The Black Stallion and The Black Stallion Returns by Walter Farley are two vintage books that were my favorites when I was a child.

My creative mind took me to places I had never been and had me doing things I had never done. I was happy then. I made myself a seat in the Chinaberry tree in our backyard and I would sit up there with birds around me and write stories about horses. 

I imagined a life with a horse of my own. That was my greatest desire, my own horse. I felt I would be completely happy if I only had my own horse. It would be many years before that desire was met.

Random Acts of Kindness Make Me Happy

Recently I was reading about what makes us happy. I think most people grow up thinking that money will make them happy, but studies show that people with money are not always happy. Material things make life easier, but do they make us happy? What do you think?

This is one of the things found to make people happy:

4. PERFORM RANDOM ACTS OF KINDNESS

Random acts of kindness, those selfless acts that help others, help you live for the moment of making others smile and making you smile as well. Random acts of kindness are just that — random. They are spontaneous, in the moment, and a great addition to your daily life.

My sister and I went into the restroom at the theater a few weeks ago. I was in a wheelchair that day because I could not walk the long distance from the parking lot to the movie house and then down a long hall to see the movie. I had just had knee surgery.

As my sister was pushing my chair through the door, a young woman was coming out. She stopped and held the door for us. Then she followed us in and waited for us. I didn't know she was still there until I came out and found her helping my sister get the towel machine to work. As I used the lavatory, she pulled towels for me to use. I asked her if she worked there and she said no. 

"I thought you might need some help," she said with a nice smile. Then she held the door for us to get the chair through as we left.

I hope she was as happy as she made us. A random act of kindness by this kind thoughtful person made me feel warm and hopeful about our society. We hear so much about the bad in the world, but I like to think about the good people I meet all the time. I have found that a smile can change a person's attitude, a thank you can bring a smile and a pleasant reply from a busy person in the grocery store or a waiter who is rushed because of the shortage of help in the restaurant. Just saying something humorous can bring people closer as they laugh together. I remember my husband, Barry, doing this and bringing smiles and laughter to all he met. 

At the doctor's office, I had to give my name to the woman behind the plastic window. I spelled it aloud because so many times it ends up wrong on the file. 

G L E N D A  B E A L L. Then I said, "I always spell it because it seems my husband's family didn't know how to spell Bell." 

This brought laughter from all three women behind the window and suddenly we all felt closer. When I left a few minutes later, I was wished a good afternoon with smiling faces by everyone there. 

The next time you see that person walking in the rain, offer them your umbrella. That stranded motorist? Call for help. The elderly lady struggling with her groceries? Carry them for her. One of the easiest lessons for how to live in the moment is to do something for someone else without expecting anything in return. It not only helps you live in the moment but improves that moment for you and someone else.

This perfect weekend is almost over.

I did not have a big expensive party, or dinner or even go anywhere. I stayed home, in my mountain house, all weekend with Lexie, my buddy and sweet friend. We had no visitors and no long phone calls with family or friends. For these two days I was totally mindful, as I understand it.

I did only what brought me joy. 
Listening to the rain and distant thunder gave me a peaceful feeling. Watching the leaves of the oak trees so close to my window as they danced in the wind, wet with the precious rain, made me smile.

Lying on my sofa watching a history-based story with period costumes on my TV with Lexie curled up in the circle made by my knees and the back of the sofa opened my heart and filled it with gratitude for all I have.

Waking in the early morning in my own bed, knowing I could sleep for awhile longer if I wished, with no pressure to get up and do something. What a blessing that is. No one needs me to do anything I don't want to do. I can sleep and sleep is such a healing practice for me. Eight or more hours of sleep banish pain in my body. Works better than pills and shots.

Having time - precious time - to do just what I want to do, reminded me that I have too much going on in my life, going and doing, and I asked myself, "What do I really want to do with the precious life I have left?"

In October I have another birthday, and it is a milestone, marking the weight of the Third Act of Glenda's Life. What will the next year hold for me? Every year I vow to reach out to family and friends, those who live far away and those who live near me. It seems to me, I never do enough. I am always so busy with other things. But I know that whatever I can do to make my loved ones know I care for them and that they are in my thoughts, is more than doing nothing.

One of my favorite things to do is listen to educational podcasts. I did that this weekend. I am a life-long learner, but I would not like to sit in classes for hours a day or be required to write or discuss my thoughts.

Having time to listen to others, agree or disagree with them, was one of the most delightful things about this weekend. I had time to digest what I heard and make up my mind as to what I believed. 

I intentionally avoided the news of the day, of the world, and found my life more relaxed and at peace. Why should I hear all the awful things reported when there is nothing I can do about it? Instead, I listened to music. I danced and I sang. 

I became aware this weekend, alone with my thoughts and with my little Lexie, that the worst of grieving the loss of Barry, my husband of 45 years, is finally beginning to wane and I can finally say, I am happy just being with me and my things in my place. 

I am enough. I don't need anyone else to make me happy or full-filled. Do you feel that way, those of you who have lost your beloved people? 

I knew in the fall of 2009 that I would go on with my life, and that I must do something to fill the time, but must also do something beneficial to others. For ten years I have taught senior adults to write about their lives. I have provided a place for writers to come and learn from excellent poets and writers. I was inspired to teach by my mentor, the late Nancy Simpson, poet and friend.  I was encouraged by other writers and friends and appreciated by many of them. I am grateful to writers, Karen Paul Holmes, Joan Howard, many of my guest instructors, who never fail to let me know their thoughts on what I do. 

Mary Mike Keller and Estelle Rice, visual and literary artists and my best friends, have been there for years through my mourning time and through theirs. How many have friends like that?

Also this weekend, I smiled when I thought of my sister, Gay, who is having the time of her life. She is dancing two or three times each week with wonderful dancers who let her finally do for herself what she always enjoyed most. After years of taking care of loved ones and being there for others, she has made the decision to do what she loves to do. The joy in her voice is exhilarating. It reminds me: We should never think it is too late to follow our dreams. 

It is never too late to make a change in who we are. It is never too late to stop and let life show us who we are and what we really want. Be still and listen. 

So, my dear readers, although you have been there through my pain and sorrow, welcome to my happiness. I hope your weekend has been all you wanted it to be. See you next week when I hope to have my essay on John Cecil Council finished and posted.


Leave me a comment or email me: gcbmountaingirl@gmail.com 

When health issues change our lives

In our lives we have good times and difficult times. We have worries and we have joy.

Recently my dear brother-in-law had to have emergency surgery for a heart attack. My sister called to tell me he was having a stent put in for a 100 percent blocked artery. He is doing fine, she said. I said I wished I could be there with her and she said, "You are. I am talking to you on the phone." He is home now and they are doing fine.

Strange, but I was reading my essay about Barry's bypass surgery recovery many years ago, at the time she called. His surgery changed our lives forever. He was only 52 years old. Like I did, Gay will now learn all she can about how to cook for him and what her husband can and should not eat that will help him prevent another heart attack. She said the doctor said he would need to change his lifestyle. I'm sure Stu will get on an exercise program and will be careful of his diet. He doesn't smoke and, I think, lives a healthy lifestyle. He has been a runner ever since I first met him, but I think he has cut down on that because of knee problems.

Barry did not have a healthy lifestyle. He smoked heavily until his surgery, but he quit and never smoked another cigarette. He began to walk every day and then he began jogging. He was under the care of good cardiologists and he lived twenty-two years after his heart surgery. That made a real believer of me that smoking is the worst thing you can do to your heart. Ironically, Barry died from complications of cancer. The chemo killed his heart.

Another family member will have surgery on the 24th, and my thoughts are with her. It sounds like a difficult recovery ahead. A few weeks ago a dear cousin underwent heart surgery and is recovering now. He is dealing with the aftermath including depression and other issues that he was not expecting to face.

How can I even thing of complaining of my aches and pains when people I care about are suffering? I am happy that physical therapy is helping me recover my mobility.  

Lexie always makes me smile and cuddles with me. She makes bad times better.

I have completed the writing course I taught for ICL and I am preparing for a new writing course I will teach for the next six weeks. My class has made and I look forward to working with the students at my studio. Joy is coming to compete with the worry and concern.

That is what life is all about--good times and bad--and how we handle each.
I've known my share of both. I know for sure, that having loving family and friends who are there in person or by phone or email, makes a world of difference. I hope I am never too busy with my life to reach out to someone who needs to hear from me. And I hope if I am the one who needs someone, that my family and friends will be there for me. I hope you have the same.

Are we happy? Make today count.

“There are times in the lives of most of us when we would have given all the world to be as we were but yesterday, though that yesterday had passed over us unappreciated and unenjoyed.” --- William Edward Hartpole Lecky

Everyone wants to be happy. What makes us happy? Are we happy?
Were we happier in the past or are we happier now? Do we need to be happy? Can we live a good life without happiness?

When my husband died, I wondered if I would ever again be happy. My sadness, sorrow and grief dragged me to the deepest darkness where I could see no light anywhere. I know many people feel this way. Loss of a loved one--mother, father, child, husband, wife, siblings and even our pets can drain all joy from us.

Guilt, anger and need for revenge can steal our happiness. Jealousy is a major thief of happiness. People are killed by loved ones because of jealousy.

Lives can be ruined by all these things. For most of my life, I blamed my moods on people around me. I worried about everything that had any effect on me. My family had a huge amount of control over my life and that of my husband's when we lived so near them. Anger ruled me for years, and the anger came from my lack of or my assumption that I had no control over my life. When I gave in to my anger and erupted like a volcano my husband or one of my brothers usually felt the fire, the words that spewed like lava from my mouth. That brought on my guilt, my shame for being irrational or paranoid.

At times I wished to disappear and be invisible. How could those I loved look at me with love when I had such loathing for myself? Looking back on these times in my life, I find a deep empathy for my father. He was well-known for his bad temper, his anger that turned to rage and brought out the worst in him. Mother said he always felt such remorse when he calmed down.

"Depressed people remember sad memories better and happy people remember the happy times better." *

I often wonder if my older brothers had the same father as my younger sister and I. They remembered Daddy with love and respect. I remembered his unreasonable anger for many years even after he died at the age of 88. Was it depression that brought back those bad memories or was it anger and need for revenge that goaded me as an adult?

"Depressed people have as many good events in their lives as other people, but they only remember the bad ones." *

At one time I only remembered my bad feelings, anxiety and anger, at family gatherings. My sister remembered those gatherings with fondness and joy.

For the past few months, Gay and I emailed each other, every day, three things for which we were grateful. I think that is a wonderful exercise, and I urge you to do it with someone you like or love.

• Today I am grateful I woke up with no pain.
• I am grateful that I have heat in my house and I am warm.
• I am grateful for my little dog who brings me such joy every day.

I might just take all those things for granted if I didn't write them down.

Expressing our gratefulness at the moment grounds us and makes us recognize what good we have in our lives. When we do this, we don't let the day go past unappreciated or un-enjoyed.

No one knows what tomorrow will bring. We live in a very uncertain world. But we know what we have this minute, this hour, today. I try to be grateful for today and what it brings. Write down those special moments in a journal or on your computer. I believe writing our thoughts embeds them in our minds so we can pull them up when we want to experience joy again.

Today I talked on the phone for a long time with my sister. We laughed and wondered how we got this old without even realizing it. We talked about our plans for the future, we discussed our loved ones and how we want to help them. I will list this phone call on my gratitude list.  

For those who have children, record with photos or words, those delightful things they say and do. One day you can share them and laugh about the happy times. From my brother's recordings I watched recently, emotions spilled over and I laughed as well as cried. I only remember the good things about the family get-togethers now. I am different. I am happy and at peace. I see faces of family that are gone now and wish I had the chance to speak to them again, to tell them how much I appreciated them. But those days were unappreciated at the time because we always thought we had tomorrow. We often let petty anger or jealousy stand in the way of being who we want to be.

And then there were six, taken after the death of Ray the oldest brother

I only remember the happy times with my husband. We certainly had disagreements and arguments, awful times when we hardly spoke, but I don't want to remember those times. Why should I? The happy times bring me joy and there were far more of them than the bad times.


Family photo at Easter before I was married

With age comes wisdom, and looking back with the wisdom of my years, I see so many ways I brought on my unhappiness, times I brought unhappiness to others.

If you could go back to yesteryear, what would you do differently? Could you have been a happier person or been a kinder person to those around you? Could you have saved a relationship with a sibling or friend?

If only we could pass our wisdom on to younger ones today. But will youth listen or must they learn these things from their own experience? What do you think?

Take control of your life. Be the hero in your life story. Don't let today go by unappreciated.



* From The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin

Is there anything more fun than a new puppy?

I have now had a darling little baby, Lexie, for about three weeks, and she is controlling my life to a certain extent although I am determined not to spoil her.

She weighs only five pounds

How could anyone resist that little face?

Lexie is a Chi-Weenie, a mix of Chihuahua and dachshund. She has long ears that stand up like a jackrabbit's and a long body like a weenie dog. We think she is about three months old.

She is not the prettiest dog I've ever had, but she is loved. Barry and I always had dogs in our family for as long as we had a home, 45 years. A couple of years after Barry died, our sweet Rocky had to be put down. He had a terrible illness that I believe was a brain tumor.

I decided I would not get another dog. After all, they die on you. I wanted to be done with grief. I had lost my husband, three of my brothers, my parents, and a sister. I grieve over the loss of my pets just as I do a family member. Well, they are family members. At least all of our dogs were loved like a member of the family. They lived in our homes and were our constant companions. 

Brandy, the miniature poodle was our first. Barry gave him to me a week after we were married. Brandy soon owned us and we obeyed his every wish for nineteen years. Poodles are such people-dogs, that it is hard to leave them, even with someone they love. He mourned when we were away. After all, he didn't know if we were coming back. 

Our next dogs were Samoyeds, the most beautiful dogs in the world to me. Nicki died when he was only two years old from a mysterious malady the vet could not explain. Barry could hardly stand it until we found another snow white puppy and that was Kodi who lived to be fourteen. He was my shadow and I adored him. While I was grieving over having to put him down on Christmas Day, Barry found Rocky who had been put out on the road by the Chatuge Dam. And so began another love affair with a wonderful dog. He and Barry were inseparable until Barry passed away. Then Rocky realized he had only me and we were best friends going back and forth to Roswell where we visited family. I'll always remember Rocky as the most gentle, loving dog who let other dogs he liked, take his bed or eat his food. He would even let the cat have his bed.

Now after time has eased the pain of losing Rocky, little Lexie has come into my life like a bright star that had been waiting until the right time to fall into my lap. She is smart, too smart at times, and is going to be a great dog when she is house trained. She snuggles with me and sleeps nestled up beside me until I put her in her own bed. She sleeps there without making a sound until I wake up in the morning. 

There is more to Lexie's story and I'll tell it soon, but this is enough for now.

What Makes You Happy?

Recently as cold weather settled in on us in the mountains of North Carolina I was toasty and warm with the heat going full blast, wrapped in a soft throw and being so grateful that I don't have to live in a drafty house with only a fireplace to warm me.

My mother and father lived in that kind of a house when I was a small child. I doubt that it got down to six degrees in south Georgia, but it did get cold and the winter wind found its way through the walls, around windows, and under doors. Fortunately our new house built the next year was tight and adequately heated.

I appreciate my parents who struggled to make sure their children had a better life. They managed to survive the Great Depression, World War II, and still enjoy life. When I hear people today whine and cry about how bad this world is, I have to smile. Everything is relative, isn't it?

It seems to me that no one has enough. The wealthiest want more and more material things. They don't enjoy what they have because they live in fear that they will lose it. The poorest don't have enough to eat or a place to sleep. They want more, and would love having what the wealthy man owns. What he has would be enough, the poor man thinks. But if he had what the wealthy man has, would that be enough? Do we ever have enough? Can we be satisfied with what we have? Can we enjoy today and not be scared of what tomorrow will bring?

I am satisfied with what I have, and I am grateful for all I have. When the icy wind is blowing outside, and I am warm and comfortable with hot chocolate on the stove, gratitude for what I have sweeps over me like a soft breeze. I know there are homeless people who have no shelter from the cold. I know some live in cars or sleep in boxes on the street. I know children who ate from dumpsters because the family had no money to buy food.

I don't need more than compassionate and caring family, good friends, and my health to realize what is really important in life. In the past few days concerned friends called to make sure I have all I need to be safe and warm. My sister called to check on me. I could tell she was worried about me being alone after she saw frightening weather alerts on TV.

Soon I will go on vacation in Florida where some wonderful friends give me the use of a condo. But that is not all. One of them will fly north at her expense to meet me and drive me down to the condo. She will likely drive me back as she did last year. 

That kind of friendship is what is really important. Having people in my life who care about me -- people I love -- that is what matters. 

Recently I asked on my Facebook page: Do we learn more from joy or from pain? As for myself, I think I have learned in the past five years, through all the pain of loss, what I really need in life and what I must have to live a happy life. I don't believe we have to have the biggest house, the finest of furnishings, the nicest car, the most fashionable clothes or find celebrity and fame. I think what we must have to be happy is love, people who sincerely care about us, a safe place to call home, respect for ourselves and anticipation for our future endeavors. Doing for others also rates extremely high on the happiness chart. 

As a writer, I have one more thing that makes me happy -- the ability to express my thoughts, the opportunity to communicate with others. It is a need that must be met every day, in some way, large or small. So I post on my blogs, scribble in my journals, and fill long pages of yellow legal pads with various and sundry words that eventually are transcribed to files in my computer. At times those words find their way to a publication that reaches more people. That also makes me happy. 

What makes you happy?

Happiness - How Happy Are You?

Last night while trying to throw away some magazines I'd collected for six months, I came across an article on happiness. Many surveys had been done to find out how happy Americans really are and what makes them happy.
We are a fickle group. On one survey we say that money is not on the top of our list of what makes us happy, but when asked to choose between winning the lottery, losing down to our perfect weight and keeping it off, or having the best sex possible for the rest of our lives, most of us chose Winning the Lottery. So maybe money is more important that we want to admit.

It is not hard for me to know right now what would make me happy, but it is not possible to bring my best friend back to me. But had you asked me three years ago what makes me happy, I probably would not have mentioned him because he was so much a part of me that I took him for granted just as I take it for granted that my hands will type the words on this keyboard. Be careful what you say when you talk about what it takes to make you happy.

I would not have said that being able to open medicine bottles, jars from the grocery, and being able to read small print would be among the things that would bring me happiness. A few years ago I took those things for granted, also.

In 1995, if I had been asked what makes me happy, I'd have said my move to these mountains where I'd always wanted to live. I might have also said that publishing my writing would make me happy. Happiness has never meant material things, luxurious living, fancy cars and fur coats and diamonds.

Happiness for many people involves their children. My mother said she was always happy because she had her children she loved and enjoyed. She was married to a man she loved and although they had hardships both financially and healthwise, those things did not marr her happiness with her life.

My pets bring a smile to my face and even more than winning the lottery, I think I would rather be healthy and strong.

What makes you happy? If you aren't happy with your life, why? What would it take to make you really, truly happy?