Gratitude
I studied along with my oldest daughter Julia last spring in a class on happiness — supposedly the most attended class in the history of Yale University. Professor Laurie Santos claimed that happiness comes from human connection with others, quality sleep and daily exercise, and acts of kindness and experiencing gratitude. I like that word —
GRATITUDE.
This happiness message of Professor Santos makes sense. Gratitude for what we have in our lives can take us a long way down the road of happiness. Gratitude in America is underrated and underused, in my opinion.
So I would take some time this morning to remind myself of what I am grateful for —
My house.
I own a house in a county where the average price for a house is $787,500, although mine is listed at a little under $700,000. Wow! Too many younger persons — and not only the young — are going to be priced out of ever being a homeowner in Southern California. This is a shame. I wrote years ago about the dying of the California dream, especially along the coast, as we seem to be moving to a Third World society of wealthy homeowners, struggling renters, and downtrodden homeless. The unaffordability of coastal California housing means too many will end up as that most improvident class: renters. They flush their rent money down the drain every month. They build no equity in paying the unavoidable cost of room and board month after month. Many middle class families have much of their wealth and retirement invested in the family house — in the homes they are paying off over thirty years.
I’m one of them.
How many of my peers in Ventura look forward eagerly to the day they can sell their overpriced house off and retire outside of California?
Most of them.
I’m one of them.
They sell their house here in California when they retire, buy a house in Oregon or Idaho for cash, invest the rest of the money, and enjoy the autumn and winter of their lives. A modest security gives them blessed freedom, after a lifetime of working hard and raising a family.
Then there are the 70-year olds working as Wall-Mart greeters. They will work for minimum wage until they physically cannot work at all. Until they die, or close to it.
I have a job. I have a house. I have a pension waiting for me. I’m grateful.
Out of almost all my friends and acquaintances, I am almost the only person I know with a pension. Some have so much wealth accrued from 401k investments or the businesses they own that it does not matter. Others I have no idea what they will do.
I will be happy to have a pension, even if it is relatively small. My needs are not large. As a teacher, I live within my budget.
Or maybe I am wrong in this homeowner path? Would I be happy to rent again?
Owning property is a big responsibility. If I were a renter I wouldn’t have to pay property taxes or home insurance. Those two expenses every year amount to some $8,000 per year. In addition, I would not have to stress about home maintenance or paying for upkeep and all that. When something in my house broke, I would just call the landlord and he would have to fix it. And the landlord would also have to pay all the taxes and insurance.
To own? Or to rent? Who knows?
But either way I will be —
GRATEFUL.
I mentioned how I live “within my budget.” What does that mean?
How should one live? Should we spend our best energies “getting and spending”?
For me, no. Happiness is to exercise vigorously — to earn my evening’s appetite, to “burn off the crazy” of daily life, to sleep well at night. This is the rhythm of my life: to be active and outside during the day, and then to relax and enjoy the evening.
When the day is done and darkness descends, I listen to classical music. Or I read a good book, the likes of which the world always has more. I try to think clearly. To write as well as I can, or to contemplate what I will write the next day. To reflect on the miracle which is consciousness. To enjoy simply being alive. To stretch my muscles (a dash of yoga) and prepare for bed. To look outside at the moon before I lay down to well-earned sleep. To savor the moment.
The peace and quiet.
This is what I live for.
I rarely go to expensive restaurants or take elaborate vacations. I don’t care about expensive cars or consumer goods. It costs so much money just to cover the basics, and the extras do not equal happiness to me. I think the capitalist powers-that-be try to convince us that money equals happiness. I say we can be wealthy to the extent that we can live without extraneous material goods — many of which do not make us happy, anyway. Maybe I am un-American in this aspect.
I don’t want you, dear reader, to think I live as a pauper. I don’t. I earn and spend money. A fair amount of it. I buy things which (I hope) will add value to my life and my family’s life. I am not a Diogenes or Thoreau wannabe. Money and material objects have their place and value in the world, and I acknowledge that. But just because they are important things does not make them the most important thing.
So in this context, I live “within my means.”
I notice some who look at their more wealthy neighbors, and they seethe with jealousy. They want more — as much as their neighbor, or more than their neighbor. The “green-eyed monster” which is envy dwells strongly inside them, along with its kissing cousin, avarice.
That is not me.
I want peace. And quiet.
The outside world — larger social trends or movements, popular music and movies, politics and economics — has come to have less interest for me. The interior world inside has more.
I don’t need much. I myself am almost enough.
Is that what it means to get older?
Or is it just me?
GRATEFUL.
I have two beautiful daughters.
GRATEFUL.
But I will never have more babies. Just thinking this thought makes me happy. So grateful!
Last December my father and I were waiting for an elevator at Hoag Hospital so we could visit my ailing stepmother up on the third floor. As the sliding door opened a mother and her newborn were wheel-chaired out on the way to exit the hospital and return home. The happiest scene in the world, right? A mother and her newborn. As the elevator door closed behind us and she could no longer hear, I whispered urgently to my dad, “Get ready to suffer, lady — SUFFER!” My dad responded laughingly, “That will teach her to have sex.” We were happy for this new mother and were joking, of course, but I was happy to never do that again. I was serious about the suffering, though.
I will never again be that blurry-eyed new parent with a screaming baby on my arm. No sleep, no sleep, no sleep: the whole world is absurd and everyone seems like an asshole. Carl von Clausewitz talked about the fog of war, but who can explain the fog of new parenthood? The Sturm und Drang which is severe sleep deprivation and huge daycare costs for years. Hanging around the playground for the third hour bored out of my mind pretending to have fun with a toddler. I did enjoy my daughters when they were young, but after a few hours of playing with dolls I was done. They weren’t. They could go all day and night.
I know there are parents out there that go through these years unscathed, as they didn’t pay much attention to their kids — or they just were natural parents and love babies and little kids. But to do parenthood right, especially in the early years, it will suck the soul out of you. For a decade or two. It will leave its marks. Or that is how it was for me, at least.
I would have considered myself the poorer if I had never become a parent. Watching my child exit the womb and cozy afternoon naps with a baby were amazing experiences. Later on teaching my daughters how to swim or hit a backhand, coaching AYSO soccer teams, picking them up from elementary school, reading book after book after book at bedtime — it enriched my life. I recently read for the first time to my youngest daughter three letters I wrote to her eleven years ago when she was still in the womb, and it brought back the energy and excitement of that time. (Don’t believe me? Read them yourself.) But man it was exhausting! Parenting was not for the uncommitted. It was like a second full-time job after you finished the first one.
I am well into the parenting experience. In fact, I can begin to discern that moment when my two daughters will graduate from high school. I am on the downslope of the most intense parts of parenting. I will wish for the best.
But I am GRATEFUL I will never be that parent of a newborn baby again.
I still think to myself when I see new parents and their baby, “Suffer! Prepare to SUFFER!” I emphasize the sibilant “s” in “suffer!” I positively hiss it.
“SUFFER!”
Never again. I had a vasectomy. Shooting blanks is wonderful.
GRATEFUL.
I’m so grateful my daughters are “normal” and have no huge health problems. So far.
I have seen other parents go through hell with sick or troubled children. Not my wife and I — so far.
Thank you, Lord.
And I’m grateful to my wife for having carried our daughters to term, and for all she has done for our family and me.
GRATEFUL.
I have my health. So far.
The future is precarious. Chronic illness might arrive sooner rather than later. I might get sick and perish next month. Or get hit by a bus. Or struck by lightning. Or contract the Coronavirus.
One never knows. The older I get, the more I realize this. To teenagers sickness and death is something that happens to others and so it stays out of mind. Older people know better.
So enjoy what is enjoyable in the present — the eternal present, it’s all we really have. Savor the moment.
Don’t take your health for granted, Richard. Be —
GRATEFUL.
There is something in the American spirit which seems permanently ambitious and restless. A person wants more — a bigger bank account, a better and newer car, a longer overseas vacation, a larger more luxurious house, etc. There can be no end to identifying what you don’t have, and many Americans devote their entire lives to the pursuit of “more.” I have heard it described as the pressure to “keep up with the Jones.” It is the idea that you are always judging yourself by comparing yourself with your brother-in-law — if he has more than you, you feel the less. Anything worth doing is worth overdoing, in the eyes of too many Americans. Look at the materialism being sold in the following Cadillac car commercial —
— they are trying to go too far, just to make a point. I get it. They are actually selling rubber and steel assembled into a car, but what they are marketing is their car as something which gives you a better life. If only it were that easy! It is the age-old advertising secret of trying to make luxuries look like necessities in the eyes of consumers.
I don’t buy it. So I won’t buy it. I won’t have a Cadillac.
But I am GRATEFUL for what I do have. Much more than for what I don’t have. So I don’t miss the Cadillac. Or more to the point: I don’t miss making payments on a Cadillac car loan.
Every time I go to buy a car or deal with a bank, I sit across the table and look at the guy offering me a loan with extreme wariness. I go there when I absolutely need something. Other than that, I avoid banks and loans. I stay out of debt. I try to keep it simple — I try to live simply. Usually I succeed.
And whatever vices and peccadillos I might have, I try to keep them few and relatively harmless. I seek to keep them on a leash, while not making a Wagnerian opera about them. Everyone has their imperfections. Live and let live.
What else?
I am content in my own skin. I have no enemies that I know of, and I don’t look for any. I am happy for whatever tomorrow brings. I will be pleasantly surprised by the good, and I will deal with the bad when it arrives. I can’t control many of the external events which surround me, but I can control my reactions and feelings towards them. That makes all the difference.
On this frigid morning (44 degrees) on November 12, 2020, as I write these lines, I am so GRATEFUL for what I have. I’ve had good luck. I’ve (so far) avoided calamity. I’ve worked hard and been rewarded.
So many have so much less.
Gratitude.
I am blessed.
Amen.
