The Discovery of Loose Change (and other good things) Ch. 2

I think that before we move forward, it pays for us to look back and see where happiness began.
Where does this come from? Does this begin with our youth?
Think about it.
Did happiness begin when we learned songs in nursery school?
Remember?

We sang about the wheels on the bus and how they go round and round – all through the town.
Ah, youth. The days of innocence. The moments of purity.
These were the days when we believed in silly things like fairy tales or how the moon was made of green cheese. And so what if it is made of cheese?
Is it so bad to believe in the man on the moon or the tooth fairy?

Something that I know to be true is that we are all very different. We come from different backgrounds. We grew up with different cultures and in different house. Yet, even still, I’m sure there is a relatable margin that helps us define where happiness began.

The ability to wonder. This is a great place to start.
The ability to play pretend or make-believe.
This was simple. This was easy, in fact, and to have the ability to go and play or to be whomever we’d choose – like if we wanted to play cops and robbers or if we wanted to pretend like we were superheroes – how great was this? 

Little kids build clubhouses with wide-eyes and pictures in their mind of what their finished product will look like – and I can grant you this, most times the finished project seldom matches the initial picture of the coolest clubhouse that was ever built. But still –
The idea to build or create something like this – to build a clubhouse and have someplace away from the world – what a great idea this was. The effort we put into the feeling of joy was incredible – too bad age stepped in and told us to stop.
(Know what I mean?)
No, not everyone grew up in a place where things like this were possible. Maybe there were no fields where they could build a clubhouse. Maybe some kids never had a sleep-over with their friends where they built blanket forts and tents. But still, I think my point is becoming clear. We all had something simple which we loved. But where has this gone?

I want to be happy. And so do you.
Everyone wants to be happy.
Yet, there is a degree of misery that comes with age and with life, itself too.
There are a series of disappointments which take place throughout life. As we grow from this, the jagged edges of life’s experiences can leave cuts and scars; hence, this leaves behind an impression or an imprint. In which case, this can either blind us from the prisms of hope or disturb the multidimensional factors of how simple it is to laugh and smile or play a game, like Uno, or Light-Bright, or Candyland, or Chutes and Ladders. Yes, I am aging myself with these games. But still – i’m sure the point is clearing up.

Youth . . .
How great is it to allow yourself to dream or to play or to enjoy a game of pretend? In fact, most grownups play pretend throughout their entire lives. Only. this is not a game to them.
No.
This is their life. All this means is they’re trying to “be” someone or trying to “fit” or trying to fill the role and become the person that they “believe” they’re supposed to be. All the while, they have lost sight of themselves. I can say that yes. I have done that to myself. I’ve misplaced myself, so-to-speak, and in the mad dash to redirect my attention towards the views of a happier life, I am here now to declare my seat at the table – because I’m here to take my dreams back.
I want them all back.

Come to think of it, I know where happiness begins.
Like, say, on the playground after we ate a candy that made our tongues turn blue, or green, or red.
I think happiness comes when Grandmothers read us a bedtime story or they brush their hands through our hair and touch the side of our face, instantly calming us into a state of peacefulness.
I think happiness begins when we learn about our favorite meals or perhaps things like when they served pizza in the school cafeteria.
Remember that?
That was good.
I hated school – and as crappy as they might be if I had them now, some of the school lunches were pretty good (back then).

Or particularely, my special batch of happiness was in Mom’s mashed potatoes and chicken cutlets.
This was my favorite meal. Hands down!
The best ever.

I have tried to make Mom’s mashed potatoes and I do a pretty good job. I have a routine down and everything. In fact, I want to be clear about something.
If I make my mashed potatoes for you – best believe that I love you. If I make this for you, just know that you mean the world to me, and yes, if I make my mashed potatoes for you – trust me, this is done with love and nothing else.

So yes, I do believe happiness comes with a good plate of food.

Then again –
I have friends who never ran through a lawn sprinkler.
But I did.
Then again, I never ran through a fire-hydrant in one of the City streets during the heat of mid-summer when the sun was hot and the day was long.
I might not have done this but I know about the old Dominican man who used to stand outside on Archer Avenue and sell shaved ice with different syrups to make them sweet.

Either way, whether it was a lawn sprinkler or a fire-hydrant, or a swim in the pool, or if your youth was far from the water and far from the Dominican man who shaved his flavored ice; rich or poor, black or white, north, south, east or west, no matter where you come from or where you grew up – we were all young once.  We all knew how to laugh. We knew how to play, which does not necessarily mean that we all learned to take turns and play fairly.
No, this rule might have missed a few of us.
Not everyone is nice when you’re a kid. Then again, not everyone is nice as a grownup either. So, then there’s that to deal with too.
Safe to say we’ve probably been in more fights and arguments as adults than we did as kids. But then again, childhood is brief and adulthood is long.
Hence, this is my point.
Shouldn’t we rethink this?
Shouldn’t we learn to play more or dream more?
At minimum, shouldn’t we learn to laugh more?

I think we should.

I have said this before and I will say this here and now; we spend so much time in school so that we can prepare for the so-called, ”real-world.” But –
regardless of how many hours we spend in the classrooms, there has never been a class on how to have fun.
Why?
Why isn’t there a class called how to play make-believe?
Why isn’t there a class called Happiness 101?
Why aren’t we learning this because, above all, if we have to make a living and if we have to work, why aren’t we learning how to balance this?

You know about balance, right?

Why are we not teaching this in schools: How to balance your work-life and home-life.

This way, we can keep our sanity instead of losing our minds over a production meeting or trying to find out why the asshole who sits three cubicles over doesn’t realize that his voice is loud and that everyone hears him when he’s on the phone.

(This is a real thing, by the way . . . and yes, I’m waiting for someone to lose their mind and go after this man with either a knife or an office chair.)

What is “our” happiness?
What does this mean?

And yes, if not us, I wonder who will prioritizes this for us.
Of course, the answer to this is should be us. Right?
At the same time, we live in a social world.
We have to coexist and co-mingle with others.

There’s that saying that goes, “Sometimes you have to learn to go along to get along.” I don’t say that this is not entirely true (or false) but at the same time, I know this now. I know this down in the depths of my heart – no one else will ever advocate for me or my happiness.
This is my job. Or yours, if we are talking about you.

We can’t watch the world go by anymore.
I think about what I was saying to you in my opening paragraph. I know what it’s like to be inside and look out through the window and watch people live, love, laugh and learn.
I know what it’s like to be a spectator and sure, I know what it’s like to go along to get along. Only, that never really worked as well as I had hoped.

Happiness –
I think my earliest memories of happiness were taken, like mental photos; in which case, I have them in picture frames, hung on the walls inside of my heart and soul.
These pictures come from back when we had our family get-togethers. This is back when everyone was still alive and there were no empty spaces at the table. This is when my family came through the door and the hugs I’d get were beyond compare – still, to this day, nothing compares to a hug that you’d get from a favorite cousin or aunt or uncle.

I think happiness is a hug from my Cousin Robbie. Or, maybe happiness was me being a small boy and watching my Uncle Alan play his saxophone.
Maybe that was it . . .

Or maybe it was the Fourth of July when the sky took on a sparkled appeal and flashes and joyous explosions erupted in the sky. I love this.
I love looking up at the thundering rockets, bursting in streams of color, and then coming from the ground; all you’d hear is the sound of the booms in the air and the “ahhs” from the spectators below. 

I wish I knew you then . . .
I wish I could have brought you over to my house when I was small and still believed it was cool to play with toys. We could have played pretend or make-believe.
If not, we could have watched some of our favorite cartoons which is another problem I have with the youth of today – their cartoons are horrible. They never had the chance to enjoy Saturday morning cartoons like we did.

I remember playing a game of kickball in the schoolyard when I was in grade school.
Did you ever play this?
This was a great thing to break the tension in the middle of the day. In case you don’t know or you’ve never played kickball before or if you don’t remember the game – it’s like baseball.
Only, the pitcher rolls a soccer ball towards home plate and the person kicks the ball as hard as they can. You run from base to base, just like in baseball – only, this is a little easier. 

It was fun.
You know?
Fun – there goes another incredible word. 

Fun . . .

I am at a section of my life where things are changing and not everything is changing in an easier or sifter way. No, there’s work ahead of me. I have a position at work which I am responsible for.
I have daily stressors and emotional stressors.
And there’s life going on too which means that I am a person who lives in the working world. I have a job. I have bills to pay and bills that are piling up.
I have people in my life who are less than kind and certainly less than friendly.
I have hours that I have to put on a timeclock and sure, I work a lot of hours.
I am up every morning before the hour of 4:00 am.
I even do this on my days off . . .

But let’s get back to the point: Happiness
To have fun . . .

I was told that I should dedicate at least 15 minutes of my time to a daily moment of meditation.
Unless, I was really busy. Then I should dedicate at least an hour. 

I don’t know if I meditate as much as I should nor can I say that I dedicate enough time to the most important plan which is to be happy.
But then again, that’s what this journal is about – how do we find happiness?
How do we learn to either enjoy or re-enjoy life?
How do we get back to that center of purity?
How do we re-find our youthfulness and reconnect with our youthful innocence?

I have this idea, which is silly – I know it is, but since I don’t have a fireplace and since I don’t have the means right now to either have one or to be out in the woods, sitting next to a campfire – I play one on the television. It’s either a campfire or a fireplace.
I watch the flames burn high on my flat screen television –
All the lights are out. I close my eyes and let the sound of crackling flames or, if I choose the outdoor noises; I lay back and listen to the sounds of crickets and the crackling fire put me at ease –
My idea is this – a little campfire meal and/or a late night picnic.
It’s just an idea, really –
To play pretend or make-believe.

Still though, nothing ever puts a boy at ease like the sound of his grandmother’s voice when she’s telling him a bedtime story.
I tell you, my Grandmother’s hands were so soft and warm and loving too –

She knew how to have fun.
She knew how to play with me . . .
I think you would too.

I get it now. We can’t forget to play.
That’s the ticket.
We can’t let the weight of the world hold us down.
We can’t forget to take a moment and laugh about silly things or listen to silly jokes and laugh at the world because guess what . . . the world is free to laugh at us – so?
Why not laugh back?
Why not find the time to play?
Maybe we can get up a game of kickball. 
I’ve been saying this for years, but maybe now’s a good time.

But the game is only for kids like us . . .
No adults.
Deal?