I don’t often take the time to fully experience my emotional range, at least if it’s not the byproduct of a movie or TV show. As a result my emotions still have the tendency to sneak up on me without much warning. I recounted the activities of my weekend today to a friend and while I had taken the occasion to feel gratitude for its excellence, I hadn’t really let that gratitude sink in.
I concluded this because as I mentally revisited my last few days, I lost control of myself and my voice began to crack, my nose became runny, and tears began to swell in my eyes. I could scarcely dwell on the subject any further without intensifying the response.
I know that I went to bed Saturday with the thought that if heaven was revisiting the happiest day of your life, this would surely be among the days I would wish to return to. Now on Monday, I realize that Friday through Sunday were all relatively sublime variations of the same theme producing equal outcomes of satisfaction.
Friday began like so many others, waking to alarms and sauntering downstairs to the basement where I now make my living. I logged into my laptop and sat through meetings with coworkers for a few hours before taking my leave for the day to tend to my now overgrown lawn. But first, I had my periodic lunch with some lifting friends where we talked about lifting, work, and life. Upon adjourning, one of my best friends asked to join me in my errands to pick up lawn care supplies and I was ecstatic to oblige.
We perused the aisles looking for fertilizer, weed killer, and seed all the while talking lawns and life. It was a fulfilling visit with a friend I don’t see as much as I would like so I take pleasure from each occasion we are able to catch up. Having collected the supplies needed to make us upstanding suburban males, we parted ways.
On returning home, I enthusiastically retrieved my mower from the shed. Having freshly filled the gas can and bought parts for the carburetor I was looking forward to the satisfaction of tending to a mechanical device and then using it to conquer my unruly yard. Unfortunately, the mower was not read in on the vision and failed to start in spite of a couple hours of tinkering funded by YouTube research.
At my wits end, I called a professional, my Dad, to come rescue me from my despair and set my course back on track. He arrived shortly thereafter, loaded to bear with a mower of his own and a weed eater to boot. Together we talked through the function of the mower and its pesky carb, we disassembled it and cleaned meeting failure after failure. Finally, when I had again lost hope in the machine and returned my own spare mower to the shed, I returned to a fully operational mower with Dad grinning.
“What did you do?!” I exclaimed, to which he responded that he had simply adjusted the float bowl just so and as if by magic the mower had roared to life. The touch of an experienced hand informed by the wisdom of his own brother had brought victory to our long fought battle. Within seconds we agreed to each take a portion of the lawn and tackle it together. By sunset, we had finished the task with the sweat, dirt, and satisfaction to match.
Saturday started bright and early which isn’t my ideal start to a weekend but it was for a good reason, Cars and Coffee. As a car enthusiast robbed of my daily commute, occasions to revel in my most indulgent hobby are on short supply. I rose, dressed, and set off in a few minutes meeting a local crew of other car people in a half awake state where we set off to Peoria for the event. It was good catching up with an old friend who introduced me to new ones during the event. We talked about all things cars with a bit of work spicing up the conversation as well. We shared life anecdotes and ruminated on the balance between professional ambition and time for relaxation and adventure.
Returning back to town on a beautifully sunny day in the fun car, I was basically compelled to visit my favorite coffee shop, Coffee Hound, where I ordered a honey coffee and a blueberry coffee cake. My most recent modification to my car was the installation of some cup holders and this was to be their first real test, a fresh cup of coffee which I had only been able to lightly sip from given its boiling temperature.
Well at least the cup stayed in the holder, but the full cup combined with the harsh ride of the car dispensed a bit of the sacred liquid around the interior. Unphased, I arrived home and slowly consumed my prized treats which have also become a scarce indulgence since the emergence of Covid. For only being about 11am, the day was on a remarkable trajectory.
Dad arrived a short time later to pick me up. Using his truck, we transported some flooring to the new rental and inspected some recently completed work and strategized other work. We then proceeded to my parent’s house to begin installing a new sway-reducing hitch on their camper. Putting the word out to my siblings, my brother came over to change his oil and my sister arrived a while later in case we had time to work on her car.
Dad and I worked on the camper, pulled into the street in attempt to get to level ground, while Mom cooked fresh derby pie and monitored the progress of the race. Matt got his car on jackstands in the driveway and worked on draining his oil. Each project made steady progress, we sampled pie, Matt realized he forgot the oil filter change before filling, and the engineer writing style of an instruction manual confused Dad and I.
Mom and Sis setup on the sidewalk next to Dad and I as we worked, enjoying the sun and keeping the dog occupied. Matt tried to remove the oil filter but its slick and tractionless surface proved impossible to conquer. We collaborated and devised a plan where Matt would drop me off at home and I would get tools. I returned with the tools needed and replaced the filter without much fuss proceeding to fill the car with oil as needed. I then helped finish up the hitch install and Dad took Sis for a test drive of the newly wrangled camper.
Mom had made a second alternate derby pie by her sister’s recipe which I responsibly sampled as is required of a son. Dad and Sis returned and we all lingered in the driveway enjoying the sunset and chatting, really just enjoying each other’s company. We schemed our dinner plans and how we might conclude the night. Mom mentioned Blaze as an option and in theme for the day, I was “off to the races” with Sis in tow. I ordered us both a pie, pizza this time, and we met at Blaze to collect our craving fulfillment.
It was consuming this pizza at the end of the night when it occurred to me that the day was so simple, yet so perfect. I didn’t do anything tremendous, no cross country road trips or bucket list fulfillment. No this was better, this day represents the happiness I’ve worked to cultivate in the days between the extremes. This day should be a model for what I seek out in my routine life.
The recipe looks like this:
Prepare base of challenging but achievable problems or projects mixed with the support and involvement of my family.
Dice opportunity to teach and learn humbly.
Sauté with the graciousness of forgiving mistakes or happy accidents.
Garnish with great friends, beautiful weather, fun cars, excellent food.
Serve with gratitude.
