Historic and picturesque Newport, Rhode Island.
Happiness is found in life’s most ordinary moments.
This week, I will be celebrating my 57th birthday.
And being in a reflective mood, I’m finding that as I get older I’m finally able to derive bliss from the simple things in life.
It has taken me awhile to get to this place.
But these days, these wonderful days, a beautiful sky, my wife’s laugh, a text from my sister, a call from a friend, a quick trip to New England, watching my old dog sleep in his cozy bed, time with friends, a great book and the list goes on makes me happy to my very core.
Brené Brown once said, “We chase extraordinary moments instead of being grateful for ordinary moments until hard 💩happens. And then in the face of really hard stuff — illness, death, loss — the only thing we’re begging for is a normal moment.”
Ain’t that the truth!
Therein lies the great irony of life — we are constantly pursuing the extraordinary yet when we lose someone, we’re willing to give anything to hear the sound of their voice even if it’s singing off-key in the shower just one more time. One more time.
In my case, Covid reminded me that each moment we’re alive is impossibly fragile.
I first learned that lesson when I lost my mother far too young to cancer. But I had forgotten that lesson.
I was 34 and in a hurry in those days, consumed by ambition and anxious to make a mark. I lost sight of the beauty of the mundane. I was restless and impatient.
But the gift of some hard knocks and the passage of time is that we discover that simplicity has true meaning.
When I came home from a 39 day stay at Bethesda Hospital this time last year, my friend Connor Lynch called me.
“Doesn’t the grass seem greener?” he asked.
How did he know?
Yes, the grass seemed greener and the sky seemed bluer. I told Connor that during my trip home from the hospital, I never enjoyed seeing Lake Ida Road more. Connor knew from experience so he wasn’t surprised.
A road that I travel every day every day rushing around suddenly seemed grand, like a picturesque boulevard.
I don’t want to lose that feeling.
So when life gets me down, and of course it still does from time to time (that Old School Square lease termination really stinks my friends) I still get angry. But my pique is tempered by my appreciation for the good things in life. The simple pleasures.
We went to New England last week for a long awaited vacation that happened to dovetail with my year anniversary of getting and ultimately surviving Covid and a wicked case of double pneumonia that still robs me of my wind.
Through Facebook memories I was able to revisit the experience through the kind comments of so many nice people. It was painful and interesting and touching to hear from so many people. And I felt blessed. Extraordinarily blessed.
A kind word carries so much power and influence.
Kind words heal.
The opposite is true as well.
Harsh words wound. They leave marks.
On my vacation, I soaked in the beauty of New England which is extraordinary. Everywhere you look is a postcard.
My wife and I enjoyed the water views, we sailed, looked for puffins, explored charming villages and marveled at the history we found in every town.
I’m drawn to New England for a lot of reasons, some mysterious to me. It does remind me of my hometown Stony Brook, New York, so maybe that’s part of it. But there’s something intangible too that just calls to me.
Of course, I love Florida too. My wife and I have given a lot of time and passion to Delray Beach and so have our friends who were hurting last week over the aforementioned decision regarding Old School Square.
I felt compelled to listen to their hurt last week, to make calls I wouldn’t ordinarily make while on vacation.
I was calling and texting from various points in Maine, New Hampshire, Massachusetts and Rhode Island all of which felt like warm, inviting and friendly places even for this Yankee fan tooling around town with Florida plates on the rental car.
My friends needed to be reminded that they mattered, that they did good things because they have been told the opposite.
I happen to believe that the truth matters.
And that even in a world filled with misinformation, propaganda and nastiness, the truth will eventually win out.
It’s painful to wait, but you have to keep believing.
In the past year, so many of my wishes have come true and so many of my prayers and the prayers of others have been answered.
Amid the challenges, my faith has been cemented.
I’m finally learning to be patient, to be happy and to open my eyes to the beauty that surrounds us. Despite the noise, despite the nastiness, there is clarity, kindness and hope.
Always hope. Even in the darkest days.
