I grew up in a suburb of Detroit, Michigan, about a 45 minute drive north of Hitsville USA–Motown– where the Oldies radio station, 104.3 FM, served as a baseline pulse in the background of our daily lives. Those oldies songs announced themselves from our clock radio alarms each morning and in the car and the school bus and the doctor’s office waiting room.
There was one exception to this, and that was my orthodontist’s office, where Kenny G was the backdrop to every appointment I had, and I had many. Vintage posters of the Detroit Grand Prix at Belle Isle covered the gray walls of the large room where dental chairs were lined up in rows like an assembly line. That whiny saxophone twirled around the room as I viewed those posters sideways from my reclined position and waited for my orthodontist to push his way towards me on his rolling chair. His nylon tracksuit swished as he rolled his way over, and the increasing volume of that swishing was how I knew it was my turn for him to poke around and twist the wires in my mouth. Thus Kenny G has stayed with me, entwined with my memories of spooning applesauce down my throat in the days after getting my braces tightened.
So aside from my orthodontic trauma, when I think of my childhood, I think of the Oldies and Motown.
One morning when I was a sophomore in high school, my radio alarm clicked on and the sounds of Billy Joel’s “Uptown Girl” filled my bedroom. The song had just begun, and I was awakened by those characteristic drum beats right there at the beginning. What was special about that morning? I am not sure. Maybe it was as simple as getting a good night’s sleep or optimism for the day ahead. Whatever it was, there I was, suddenly awake, and “Uptown Girl” instantly wrapped itself around my heart.
To define what joy feels like for me in my body, all I need to do is reach for that memory. In fact, to this day I am unable to listen to “Uptown Girl” without being transported back to that morning. I remember the visceral feeling of glee. That sparkle stayed with me for the rest of the day.
Joy. It’s a funny thing, isn’t it? Conjuring it sometimes feels like trying to grasp water, though this view has changed a bit in my midlife. In my earlier parenting years I realized that I had to take some ownership in the acquisition of my own joy. I couldn’t assume that other “Uptown Girl” moments would be delivered directly to me. But as a working adult with two young kids and limited time to sit around and wait, an idea emerged, first as a whisper, that I may have the capacity to nurture some of my own. I could do this with my husband and my kids, and I could also do this on my own. It took some practice. A sweet spot exists where I need to remain open to joy without trying too hard. Joy can’t be forced. The second that I fear that that search for joy is futile, any flutter of it disappears.
There are so many of these paradox realizations that unfold with each year. I both embrace and loathe it, depending on my mood.
The other day a friend invited a few of us over to create flower arrangements in her home. Creating bouquets has become a passion of hers. She watches videos online and explores different vendors for the best blooms. She showed us how to remove the bottom petals of roses and to spin the stems, flower pointing down, between your palms to get them to open up. There are techniques and tricks, ways to tell if your rose is going to last several days or wilt as soon as it’s on display.
Creating floral arrangements is not something that I have done much of, primarily because we have CATS in our home who will try their hardest to consume something toxic (it’s a cat’s perogative, I think, to constantly tempt death). I came home with my vase of flowers and sure enough one of my cats instantly wanted to eat the entire thing. I had to place the vase up high and practically out of sight.
Sigh.
On one hand it is a bummer to not have my flowers out on display where we can see them clearly on all sides. But, keeping them safe and out of the grips of our cats’ teeth also supports what I am saying here about finding joy. Over the past couple of days I have had to walk across our living room to a spot behind my husband’s work desk where I can see my bouquet. I have to go SEEK them out (and it is delightfully awkward if I do this while my husband is trying to work).
I have also had an “Uptown Girl” moment this week, waking up to soak in the results of the midterm election. I heard those drumbeats and learned that Abdul El-Sayed was Michigan’s senator-elect. It felt like Christmas morning. I sat and received not only joy, but hope and optimism, feelings that I now continue to hold in my cupped hands.
Sometimes joy finds me. Sometimes I need to go find joy. Hold these moments with me; together, let’s breathe it in.
