Perusing Facebook this morning, I came across a Thoreau quote posted by my cousin, Alan.  “… Love your life, difficult as it is … You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment.”  With measles outbreaks, mass firings, wars and the general chaos that seems to be our current lot, that quote spoke to me.

I have recently been fighting against despair, and reading Thoreau’s words was a reminder of a way towards a happier mind. Dan’s great-aunt Grace used to call this “keeping a happy heart,” a phrase she used even when she was on oxygen and knew she was at the end of her life. Thoreau’s words are inspiring, and I would add to those thoughts that when one is attempting to stay on an even keel, remembering happier times can lift one’s spirit. This is not a way of living in the past but is a way of remembering the past as a reminder of love and laughter, a realization that those times will come again. “Launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment” and remember those times when you did exactly that.

As I read this, I was sitting in our sunroom, enjoying my first cup of coffee of the day, cat on lap. The sunroom is our favorite place in the house, mostly windows, and filled with some of our favorite things.

Sipping my coffee, my eyes rested on the first chair Dan’s parents bought when they were setting up house, and the funny story behind that chair.  At the time of the chair’s purchase, World War II had just ended and things we consider necessary, a washing machine for example, were in short supply. The chair came with an ottoman, and the two items were wrapped together. Mrs. Arp just knew she was receiving a much longed for washing machine for Christmas. When she opened her present, it was a surprise. She loved the chair, but still wanted the washing machine.

Next to that chair is a table my father built, and that always sat in my childhood home. The TV in the room sits on a beautifully crafted maple and walnut table built by our younger son, and in the far corner of the room is what I think of as my “old-life crisis chair.” I admired this chair for many months because it comes in small, medium and large. The chair is ergonomically wonderful, and, best of all, the size of it allows my feet to touch the floor, something no chair has ever done for me before. The chair was horribly expensive, but I decided that instead of a mid-life crisis car, I could have an old-life crisis chair. Also in the room are some tables Dan built, and another table built by a dear friend. All are reminders all of love and the memories that love brings.

Remembering funny incidents helps with a happy heart. There’s the time I was on a football board, which I didn’t really understand, but won three times, much to the annoyance of those who’d spent quite a bit of time  strategically picking their square. There’s the time Dan and I were canoeing down the Clinch River and paddled into a side stream only to have an entire canoeing class follow us in, thinking we were leading them somewhere. There’s the time I was having a conversation with a Welsh lady, and I thought she said she’d just bought a parakeet.  I said, “We used to have a parakeet.” Turned out she said she’d just bought a pair of kittens.

A dear friend and I used to call each other when our babies went down for their naps. If one of us was having a bad day, the other would respond with what had become our mantra, “This too will pass.” The times are chaotic, the future is uncertain, but giving in to crippling despair is not helpful. It is helpful to know that we still have Thoreau, we still have our memories and we can still have a happy heart.

Cindy Arp, teacher/librarian, retired from Knox County Schools. She and husband Dan live in Heiskell.