Finding happiness

Judy. Like many of you, I started doing some online studying in the past few weeks. Yale University offered their popular “Science of Well-Being” with Dr. Laurie Santos through the Coursera website, and I jumped on it.

Now, I’m a pretty happy and optimistic person, but I was intrigued by the idea that this could be a science. Sure enough, Dr. Santos backed up her philosophy with studies and statistics. It was absolutely fascinating (and still available—just Google it if you’re interested—and it’s free).

One of the first things Dr. Santos talked about is how we think owning “awesome stuff” will make us happy.  The truth is that a couple of weeks after we buy that shiny new and filled with memory laptop, it’s just another thing, and there’s a better one available. She calls it “hedonic adaptation.”  Did you wake up this morning and say, “Hot dog, let me at that two-year old Macbook!” Nope. It’s just a useful thing now.

What really interested me were the studies she quoted about experiences being more important than things. According to the good doctor, as well as several of her colleagues, people remember things they DO more than things they GOT. They found that even friends enjoyed hearing more about experiences than they did about things.

Ted and Caed in Arizona

With Parker in Greece in 2013

We’ve always preferred giving experiences to our family as gifts. The best have been travels, early on with our kids, and more recently with grandsons Parker and Caedmon. We still talk about places we’ve visited together and the fun we had. A couple of Christmases ago we rented a house in Florida and spent the week kayaking, swimming, eating, sunning, and so on.

Sometimes, the gift was a concert, a class, or even dinner together followed by something the recipient wanted to do. One of my favorite memories is having dinner in downtown Athens with Parker, after which he took me to the top of a parking deck to show me “the best place in Athens to see the sunset.” (It was spectacular, by the way.) Daughter Leslie and I make it a point to celebrate birthdays by going out to dinner and maybe getting a pedicure. We watch our son Stefan’s kids so that he and his wife Sarah can shop without interruption, or go to dinner or whatever. We take Oliver to a nearby biking trail so he can use up lots of energy. And we let him and his brother Callum play in the back of "Raymond the Cowboy Truck." We’ll talk about those things for years to come, small though some of them are.

Pure joy

The plan had been to go to Europe this summer with Parker and Caedmon and Leslie. Parker and Les would head to Ireland, while Caed would stay in London with us. We found a book with a scavenger hunt all over the city to introduce him to some of the cooler stuff. Then we’d all meet up to visit our family in Spain. Well, thank you, Covid-19, that never happened—YET.

There are still experiences we can do together. Caed comes over about once a week, which for him is a big deal. He gets completely spoiled for a couple of days. Every now and then we hike with him and Leslie, and on our last hike hit the jackpot with a plethora of chanterelle mushrooms. That’s a memory we’ll share for awhile.

Fun day hiking and great dinner awaits

Yes, there’s the occasional book or toy from another country, especially for Oliver and Callum, our young grandsons. But, God willing, when they’re old enough, we’re headed off on an adventure, hopefully in another country. And we’ll talk about it for years to come.

Joy in the Time of Corona (with apologies to Gabriel Garcia Marquez)

Judy. Strange times.

At this point, I’m sure everyone in the world knows that we in the US are dealing with more than the Pandemic of Covid-19. Civil unrest, and a long-overdue look at systemic racism has exploded into peaceful protests and into riots, encouraged by fringe anarchistic groups. Lack of national leadership has brought about confusion in both cases. Strange times, indeed.

In terms of the Pandemic, we have expanded our “bubble” to include both kids and their families, and to have physically distanced wine and snacks outside with a few friends. This has been a lifesaver to us. Being alone the rest of the time is not so bad, and we’re still walking and hiking. We also check several times a week with friends who are alone and with friends around the world who are also on lockdown.

In terms of the civil unrest, we do the same. We have friends of color who are finally opening up to us about living in a world where watching EVERYTHING you do is de rigeur, and it is breaking our hearts. While some are protesting in organized marches, others, often afraid of the virus in such crowds, are praying that love will get us all through this and into a unified people and nation. It is not an easy time. We whites are having to take long, hard looks at ourselves, and our friends of color are having to find the courage to speak up.

In the long run, this is a good thing. And it’s the power of love that has to carry us.

In the middle of all this, we look for joy—the gardenia bush flowering outside our front door, our youngest grandson taking his first steps, and, crazy as it seems, our neighborhood raccoon, Corona.

A few days ago, we were at the dining room table and saw a young raccoon sauntering down the driveway, across the street, and into our neighbor’s yard. It was three o’clock in the afternoon! I thought they were nocturnal!

Then yesterday, when we were returning in our truck Raymond, he stopped us dead in our driveway as he calmly waited to see what we’d do. Finally, he walked to our fence, climbed over, crossed the yard, and climbed the fence to get out again. Smart guy!

This morning I saw him heading down the driveway again, and slipped out back to get a photo. Corona gave me a look that said, “Seriously?” and climbed a small tree where he sat and watched until I left.

This little guy has been a delight. Raccoons, I’m told, are the mascot of the Pandemic. They always wear their masks, they wash their hands, and if you rearrange one of the accepted spellings of racoon, it spells Corona.

No, it’s not easy now. We’re counting on love and joy and courage. And a few laughs we can get from our buddy Corona.

Quote du jour

“I am sick and tired of being sick and tired.”

- Fannie Lou Hamer

Never say never

Ted. Judy and I found it to be incredibly liberating to sell virtually all of our possessions back in 2016. I was especially happy to be rid of our vehicles. It seemed like we were always spending money on insurance, repairs or something. I remember telling Judy that we could now rely on Uber and public transportation and we would only rent a vehicle when there were no other options. We would NEVER buy a car again!

And then things changed. With the Covid-19 restrictions, it appeared that we would be pretty much stuck in the US for the foreseeable future. We were also reluctant to fly, use public transportation, or even Uber and renting a car long term seemed to be a waste of money.

A friend of mine here in Georgia recently announced that he was going to buy a new pickup truck. Knowing our situation, he said, “Why don’t you buy my old one?” My knee jerk reaction was, “Thanks, but no thanks.” After mentioning our chat to Judy though, she said, “Maybe this is the solution we have been looking for.” After giving the matter more thought, it was obvious that they were both right; this was a great solution! My friend had bought this truck when it was new, back in 2004 and taken excellent care of it. So, it was not only inexpensive, it would be very reliable. Our financial friends, Michael and Roberta thought it made sense since, once things open up and we can start traveling again, we should be able to sell the truck for about what we paid for it. My friend, Tom in New Zealand reminded me, “You and Judy are the most flexible people I know.”

So, that is how the guy who was never going to buy a vehicle again became the proud owner of a pickup truck. Judy has named it “Raymond,” because, after all, “Everybody Loves Raymond!"

Ted with Raymond, the 2004 Toyota Tundra

Shinrin-yoku

Judy. This morning I read an article about how our quarantine has moved into something called the “third quarter.” Evidently, scientists have studied astronauts and sailors in confined quarters, and have discovered that they ultimately move into a snippy, fussy period. That, supposedly, is where we are right now.

I can’t say I’m really aware of that between Ted and me—we’re used to being together all the time.  But I have found myself restless, ready to do something. The interrupted sleep is back, along with vivid dreams.

 

Amaryllis

Jasmine arbor behind the house

Outside has always been important to me, and here in this little house, we have chairs on the front porch and in the back, where we smell the jasmine vines, and see the feisty red amaryllis flowers. We watch robins and brown thrashers bathe in the backyard birdbath, and cardinals and mourning doves drink from the one in the front. The super moon has lifted my spirits immensely, and I love to step outside and see the moonshadows at night.

Supermoon rising

We’ve walked every day through our shaded neighborhood, and yesterday walked to Clarke Central High School to tape a birthday video for our friend José-Maria in the Canary Islands. He was an exchange student there and still talks about it.

But today we did something different. We went back to hiking. There’s a county park about 40 minutes away that has a beautiful leafy pathway that takes us about two hours to walk.  We’ve never seen many people on the trail, and today saw five people, four dogs, and three snakes, carefully keeping our six feet distance.  The birds sang, it was quiet, it was calming. For the first time, we saw no deer—maybe they were socially distancing. At lunch we sat in the middle of the trail and ate cheese, apples, and the chewy, tangy sourdough bread our friend Patrick left on our porch last night.

Happy to be in the woods!

Peaceful forest

The Japanese call this Shinrin-yoku, or “forest bathing.”  Simply letting the smells, sights, and sounds of nature wrap you in its arms. It did its job. We could hardly get over the glorious day, the green canopy, the sounds of birdsong and woodpecker tapping.  Even the black racers (not very racy today; it was a cool morning after a cold night) wore their shiny new skins.

He was here first!

Home again to Zoom cocktail parties, meetings, and online classes, we’re refreshed and ready. Thank God for Forest Bathing.