Rafeal Sabatinni opened his 1921 historical novel, Scaramouche, with a sentence I have never forgotten: “He was born with the gift of laughter and a sense that the world was mad.” I read his swashbuckler sometime in my teens, and have always wished I could have penned those words. It’s a wonderful way to look at existence. Life is often so hard to understand, it is best if we can participate in it with a good sense of humor and a positive outlook.
As a dreaded optimist, I see the glass—while the whole issue would be settled if they chose a smaller tumbler—as half full. Possibilities surround us, if we seek them out. Sure, bad things happen all the time. My life has had a plentiful share of health issues, money problems, family drama, stupid politics, and idiotic self-directed decisions. At times, life fit Richard Farina’s 1961 book, Been Down So Long, It Looks Like Up to Me, a title I’d have liked to have written. (If you’re counting, that’s two admitted cases of foolish jealousy marring my reputation as Mr. Doesn’t-Know-When-Not-to-Smile. Also, isn’t it impressive to make two literary references in the opening paragraphs? It isn’t, damn.)
Crap happens to all of us. At times, life drops it from the clouds. Fortunately, being a country kid, both my wife and I grew up on dairy farms, I learned early that manure made good fertilizer. Bad things make us stronger—unless of course they kill us, and if you’re dead, you probably aren’t reading this.
Numerous clichés promote perseverance as a key attribute in success. “Tough times never last, tough people do.” The little train believed “I think I can,” and did. Rocky Balboa, the icon of never quitting, said it’s not the number of times you get knocked down, it’s about the number of times you get up.
Words like those come easy; the trick, though, is in the doing. It’s not easy bouncing back from adversity. When terrible things hit, the inclination for many is to hunker down, build walls, and avoid people. I saw my Mother do something like that. She lived in the safest cocoon she could, wanting to stay in her circle, hating travel, and not wanting to know about the world out there. Distress as a young girl handicapped her, and she never got past it, like most of her siblings did.
She lived in fear, a terrible way to live. Always greeting guests with kindness, she maintained a veneer of smiles around others, but deep inside she trembled at changes, shrank from stepping outside her comfort zone, and wanted her children to avoid challenges. I went to college and forever after, even though being only eighty miles away, heard about being “the one who left us.”
I loved Mother, but early on I realized living in dread restricted life too much. Her example scared me into developing a different outlook. I did not want to stay within the walls of no-risk, which happens to many when bad things in life happen. I wanted to be like Scaramouche.
A lot of others do not like seeing other people be upbeat. It irritates many. As a world-class annoyer, I accept being a bad singer and worse dancer, doing both activities as if no one listened or watched. A multitude of former students will attest that my gyrating and honking fell far short of artistic efforts, but they remember they laughed, and I did, too.
Robert Fulgham wrote, All I Really Know I learned in Kindergarten. That’s true of me—and I never went to kindergarten. Never. Explains a lot, doesn’t it? But he also wrote an essay about how children change from ages six until their teen years. He asked little ones if they could sing, dance, draw, make up stories. All the little kids raised their hands and acted excited about doing these things. When, he asked a group of teens, none of them indicated they could do those things. How sad. We limit ourselves. I can draw stick figures, I can sing off-key, and I can dance—I call it dance—to the sounds of music in my ear or in my head. Doing those things may not be artistic to most, but thy make me feel good about life. My dancing and singing also proved wonderful threats for non-cooperative students. (Not willing to work, okay, how about I sing to you, dance too. No, J.R., I’ll do my assignment. Worked every time.)
Life is full of challenges some call obstacles. I could fret about it all, wring my hands in despair. Frankly, when I worry my stomach hurts. When I don’t, life is happier. And, I like to be feeling good. Despite all the wrong things in the world, I hold out hope that we can overcome, and make things better. I believe in the possibilities instead of fearing the worst. It works for me.
And please know as motivational speaker, Larry Bell, told an audience of teachers, “Remember, even on your very worst day, you are somebody’s best hope.” You are.