HAPPINESS

Individuals often speak of happiness as something they can directly achieve. However, happiness is a byproduct of a life well lived.

I recently attended a gathering of individuals of the Baha'i Faith. I have never been with a group who radiated so much love, acceptance, kindness and peace, the tenets of their faith.

The Baha'i describe the attributes of God as All-Loving and All-Powerful. According to Baha'i teachings the human purpose is to learn to know and love God through prayer, reflection and being of service to humankind.

Baha'i writings emphasize the equality of human beings and the abolition of prejudice. Humanity is seen as essentially one, though highly varied; its diversity of race and cultures are seen as worthy of appreciation and acceptance. Doctrines of racism, nationalism, caste, social class and gender-based hierarchy are seen as artificial impediments to unity.

The principles of the Baha'i Faith include:
- independent search for truth, unfettered by superstition or tradition
- oneness of the entire human race
- unity of all religions
- condemnation of all forms of prejudice, whether religious, racial, class or national
- equality of men and women
- abolition of extremes of wealth and poverty
- exaltation of work performed in the spirit of service
- glorification of justice as the ruling principle of human society
- establishment of a permanent and universal peace as the supreme goal of all mankind

(The information on the Baha'i Faith was taken from Wikipedia.)

Daily practice of the above principles would constitute a life well lived. Contentment, happiness and peace are its byproducts.

INVISIBLE

At sixty-five, I often feel invisible.

I don't wear the current fashions or desire to expose my breasts, legs or gluteal muscles. I wear relaxed and comfortable, whatever their date.

My hair is silver, and I use little makeup.

Without advertising, I don't attract much male attention. Besides, the men my age are usually hustling younger women.

I don't need or want center stage or even the peripheral limelight. I think this comes from being content with my life and comfortable in my own skin.

I no longer compete with others or race anyone for first place. I yield the right-of-way. I'll take the turtle's pace. It's steady and sure.

Actually, I am enjoying this time in my life. Invisibility removes the stess, and I can just be.

DINERS

Diners are without pretense, phony sophistication or inflated prices. Therein, conversations are relevant and to the point. As in all eating establishments, diners sport menu items that are not so kind to the waistline. However, diners also serve nutritious foods.

Jim is the manager and chef in Burlington, Vermont's Henry's Diner. Jim is in his mid-thirties, of stocky build, with reddish hair and a face to match. Watching Jim handle a number of orders at once is like watching a ballet, graceful and perfectly timed.

After a few rushed minutes, Jim stepped from the kitchen, walked to the counter and introduced himself. He said that he was of Heinz 57 lineage, but I suspect there was a heavy dose of Scott and Irish in that batch.

Jim said that he had worked in a kitchen his "entire life" and explained that he grew up in his grandfather's bakery, Dough Boy's Bakery, which had been located around the corner from Henry's.

With kind eyes, Jim smiled and revealed teeth in need of a hefty dental bill, but Jim had his priorities straight and spoke of his plans to buy his own diner.

Jim also bakes the Henry's pies, and we discussed the virtues of a good piece of pie. Jim fondly spoke of his wife and three children and of the two apple pies he'd baked for them the previous evening.

With orders stacking up, Jim hot-footed-it back to the kitchen and resumed his rhythmic dance.

Besides the good food and homey atmosphere, I especially like diners because of people like Jim, good, down-to-earth souls, who enjoy the quintessential hearth, the kitchen.


Addendum: If anyone wants to share an experience, offer a comment or ask a question, I'd welcome the dialogue.

DOUG

On a rainy night in Kittery, Maine, Doug greeted his customers, with a warm and inviting smile, as they entered Ruby's Diner. Doug has a square, muscular build and is the father of six. Last year, after working for a company for fifteen years as a graphic designer, he and other colleagues with tenure and higher pay were laid-off. As he spoke, Doug's attitude was upbeat, and he had a positive outlook.

Doug was reared in Kittery. He spoke highly of his friends, many of whom he has known since childhood. When Doug lost his job, his friends surrounded him and his family with love and support. Two of Doug's friends own Ruby's, where he works as an assistant manager and waits tables. You couldn't ask for a more gracious host than Doug.

As Doug spoke of his and his family's economic belt tightening, he said that they had lots of things, but they were all old and paid for. Apparently, Doug and his family had always lived modestly but, with a diminished income, they lived even more creatively and frugally. One such measure was to raise chickens for eggs and meat.

On the up side of the economic downturn, Doug spoke of enjoying having more time to spend with his children, who enjoy fishing and outdoor activities.

For their summer vacation, the family drove "Hank the Tank," their 1984 RV, to Colorado. En route, the fan belt broke, and repairs entailed a costly tow. After that experience, Doug said he carried extra fan belts and could change one in fifteen minutes flat.

Radiating with love, Doug went on to extol the many virtues of his wife, a school teacher. He proudly stated that he and his wife had cleaned motel rooms that summer, and they had outworked the "kids."

"Kids don't know how to work today," said Doug. "They're always smoking, talking on the phone or texting."

As a footnote, Doug added, "If you're a hard worker you can always find a job."

As we say in Oklahoma, Doug hit the nail squarely on the proverbial head.

STEPHANIE

The Firefly Diner,
Kittery, Maine,
Open 6:00 a.m.-to-2:30 p.m.,
Except Thursdays,
Breakfast all day,
Stephanie waits tables and lights the room.
Everyone feels special,
As she smiles and calls them, "Honey," "Sweetie," "Precious" and "Darling,"
Or she says, "Good for you, you cleaned your plate;
I grew up when you didn't waste food;
The ocean, she's kind of blustery today, and
Don't miss York's lighthouse."

While her customers eat, Stephanie hovers about the room,
Like a loving mother.
Because she's there,
The food tastes better.

CAROLINA VACATION

I thought I came to rest.
I did, some.
Actually, I came to reclaim my soul,
From life's distractions and illusions.

Little did I know
The words would come so easily.
Maybe, I should have come sooner?
No.
Everything has its own time.

FREEDOM

I sink into the silence,
Like a diver descending to the ocean's floor.
I listen.
Words come.

As I swim the silent expanse,
I discover the nooks and crannies of the universe and my soul.
Within the watery depths of the primal mother,
I am birthed into freedom.

ON THE BEACH

Abandoned, yellow, plastic starfish smiling,
Passed on to waving toddler.
Pampered child crying,
Enjoying being inconsolable

Bikini body show,
Strutting wares,
Muscled surfboard daddies,
Looking cool

Nippy, at eighty-three,
A true beauty queen

No perfect shells for me,
But shards tumbled smooth,
In dancing patterns, and
Glistening hues of ruby-red,
Gold-to-brown, gray and white

BRUNCH AT THE CAUSEWAY CAFE

Menu reads:
Good home cooking,
Breakfast all day,
Big fat biscuits,
Omelets with scallops, shrimp and grouper
Lunch,
Seafood, wrapped or sandwiched,
Gumbo,
Vegetable plates of okra, zucchini, fried-green tomatoes and more

Betty, wizened waitress,
Face tells she smoked too long.
"How big is a grouper," I asked?
"A red fish," she says. "He's a pretty big boy."
"She is too," I say.
Betty smiles.

Cat, short for Catherine,
High school senior,
Waiting tables,
Plans on college,
Maybe Wake Forest
Or, first,
A semester in Africa on mission trip.

"Africa's more fun," say I.
"College will always be there."

On exiting, feels like home.
"Be back later," I say.
Cat and Betty nod.

COUPLES

Spring,
Sunshine,
Couples in convertibles,

His bald, red head,
Her pink hat behind the wheel,

Flapping blonde hair,
Behind sunglasses,
She's asleep.
He drives intensely.

His black baseball cap and graying goatee,
Her white, sun visor

Sunday afternoon,
"Yearning to breathe free"

MY ELDEST

A son,
Not speaking to me - again.
Have seen his two children once, in five years,
I'm being punished for writing about my childhood and "his grandparents."
Says it couldn't have happened, and
I'm the crazy one.
How would he know?
He wasn't there,
In those dark corridors of my life.
Says his grandparents were there when I wasn't.
Where was I?
Getting my brains out of hock

Such is life.
He lives in a bubble.
May it never burst.
But, if it does,
I'll be there,
Still loving him.

A BEAUTIFUL EVENING

My youngest son,
Handsome,
Gay,
Has fun playing drag queen,
Went to gay bar,
First time to see him perform,
Along with other lovelies,
Participated in the fun,
Tipped the dancers,
Introduced as Nicole's mother,
By my son's drag-queen mother,
Preparing to leave,
My son was obviously pleased by my presence.
Many others, with unfamiliar faces, hugged me.
The club owner, with tears in his eyes, thanked me for coming.
Then, I knew I had mothered and approved of them all.

YOUTH

Runway model in red,
Girl child masquerading as woman,
Eyes brightly painted,
Face powdered and rouged

What can she sell me at 64?

Do I desire her youth?
No.
I have done my work.
She has yet to do hers.

Do I want her face?
It took me these many years to love my own.
Why change now.

Do I envy her figure?
God, no.
I rejoice being without bra or bikini.
She remains hostage to womanhood's illusions.
Having shed those many barnacles,
I am free to be.
And, hopefully, someday, so shall she.