Image: The above artwork I found in the alley cheers me up.
Osteoarthritis in both hands was tormenting me to no end, so I was delighted by Dr. Roulette’s referral to Dr. Asher Stemson, the sports medicine specialist and orthopedist known as ‘Dr. Happy' for his best selling book on happiness and his happy presentations in fundraising commercials for Baptist Universal Health.
It is no wonder he smiles so broadly on and off camera: he is one of the highest paid doctors in the state; major league football players and underprivileged young athletes heartily endorse him as a healer of their physical and psychological injuries.
His main message in the book ‘Being Happy’ is, “If you want to be happy, hang out and smile and laugh with happy people!”
He claims Happiness is embedded in every American’s natural constitution. Pursuing happiness as a right is downright absurd, he says, because everyone already has it. Just BE happy. Yes, sickness and injuries may interfere with your innate happiness, but if you are aligned with substantial happiness and have the right doctor, you shall be happy in all circumstances.
He may be right. I am usually happy, so much so that grim folks think I am insane. I should have become a comedian for my own safety. Friends do warn me to stop smiling so much in public because people may think I am laughing at them or think that I am a jokester or clown, then beat me up or have me locked up.
My skepticism, my ability to twist and reverse every argument, makes matters worse. I also might have become a politician or a lawyer or a philosopher, but I never wanted to be identified or defined because I believe I am essentially Nothing; that is: free from everything.
I did endeavor to be wise, however. I invested my life in the humanities, especially Greek history, existentialist philosophy, and Russian literature. I have lived at least half of my life in libraries. My current local public library accepts donations of books from the neighborhood, culls out the ones in good condition with the highest probability of being sold, and puts them on the Book Sale shelf, pricing them at $1 for paperbacks and hardcovers for $2. I asked the librarian yesterday if anything had been donated on the subjects of Being, Existence, or Nothing since I had purchased recently donated books on those subjects. No, he said, because those books were his own donation, the only ones of that sort, and nothing further in that vein is expected because theology and existentialism have been passé for decades.
"So what is wisdom?" I asked.
"I would not know," he replied.
At least I obtained a copy of Dr. Stemson’s book on happiness for $2. I sometimes do feel happy with myself, so I seek more time with myself to be happy. I now think I have lived in vain, if life itself is not vanity. I need at least 50 more years to accomplish much, to do things rather than think about them, and say, as did Sam Houston, “I have sought not to live in vain.”
Stem cells might not only cure the arthritis in my aching hands and replace my brain, but may make the repairs necessary for me to live to age 150, using at least half my brain’s capacity instead of the normal tenth. This painful keyboard exercise serves as a reminder