Pin The Tail, On That Smiling Donkey

It strikes me that yesterday's post may come across as angst filled whining. And I really am going to try and post more often, so I decided to revisit an old spot about happiness that first ran on this blog nearly four years ago to the day.






Happy Happy, Joy Joy


I've often heard people say ... "It was the happiest day of my life."


I've got a confession. I can't designate any particular day or event as the "happiest of my life."

I
can rather easily tell you when I was my angriest, saddest, proudest,
or most scared. Matter of fact, for just about any emotion you come up
with I can tell you the date, time, and place of my most extreme
emotional output -- except for happiness. And I'm not sure why.

It's
not that I'm not capable of happiness. Actually I am happy 99% of the
time. I tend to be a glass-half-full kind of guy who doesn't let the
small gunk of life cloud my view.


If anything I'm guilty of being too certain something good is just a
stone's throw away. I'm quite the Polly Anna in that fashion.

I
know a lot of parents will say that the births of their kids count as
their ultimate moments of happiness, and I do cherish both of my boys,
but confession time again. Their actual births were nerve racking
affairs of futility for me. I hate to worry, but that is all I did those
days.

Both boys were C-sections. The second planned, the first
not. Being a life long hunter who processes his own meat, the blood and
what not didn't bother me, but watching a doctor dig in my wife's
innards isn't exactly a zen moment. And then trying to check on
her, tend to a squalling bundle of placenta covered joy, listening to
her doctor's instruction, the boys pediatrician, the nurses, ... all
while family and friends chimed in ...

Well it was stressful as
hell for me. I count the days and weeks later when it was just my family
at home, when the boys cooed softly or opened the eyes to stare up at
them as I fed them, or the first time a soft baby fist reached up to
brush my stubbled cheek. Those are all much happier times than the big
event everyone else seems to describe as wondrous and miraculous and the
happiest day of their lives.

Yeah, I know as a dutiful husband I
could say my happiest time was my wedding day. But I'd be lying. I love
my wife and will forever consider myself lucky to have found a gorgeous
and intelligent woman blind enough to overlook my many faults, but again
the stress and pressure of that day keeps it from being my definitive
moment of joy. The demands of trying to talk to every family member and
friend I have, while decked out in fancy but uncomfortable duds, smiling
for a thousand pictures many from an extremely irritable photographer,
while waiting for everyone to go home so ... well I won't go into that.

Anyway I have so many fond memories with Jennifer that I couldn't possible designate one as my most happy time.

There
was my big plan to propose at the top of a mountain, but halfway up she
was out of breath and gasping from lack of oxygen, as was I, so my
vision of the sun reflecting off her diamond ring atop a majestic
mountain peak, actually became a yes under the shadowy pine covered side
of a mountain slope.
There are the thousands of whispered
conversation we've had and still continue to have each night as we lay
in bed and talk about our day.There are the trips we've taken
together, to New Orleans, Vegas, the mountains, to beaches. The many
songs that remind me of her for a jillion different reasons. The memory
that I ate spaghetti for supper every other day for the first month we
were married. Not one of those memories overrides all the others.

Maybe
my most happy moment is yet to come. Maybe I'm holding out for it.
Maybe I'll never be able to define it. But I'm not complaining. If this
is as good as it gets then I'm still pretty damn lucky, whether I have
that one spotlight moment of happiness domination or not.

So how about all of you? Can you define your happiest day?