A few years ago, on a scorching hot workday in August, I visited a Princeton area farm. I was there to oversee a photo shoot for The Lawrentian, and, while the place was idyllic and lovely, I would’ve rather been doing almost anything else — as long as that “anything else” included air-conditioning.
It was one of those days where it felt like I was being assaulted by the sun. A few minutes after we had begun to work, I was soaked through, exhausted, and crabby beyond words.
During a break in the action, I wandered over to the farm store to buy a frozen cider slushie and an apple donut. As I sat there on the store’s covered porch and ate, an old yellow dog lying in the sun in front of me raised her sleepy head, glanced in my direction and decided that I was the type of fellow she’d like to get to know better. She toddled over and flopped down next to me as if we belonged together.
I was sort of honored.
I pet her belly with my left hand and continued to eat with my right.
“This,” I remember thinking, “is what I want my heaven to be like.”
This moment of bliss was quite a turnaround for me. Ten minutes before I met that dog, I was grumbling about the heat. Five minutes after that, I was filled with exhausted relief, thanking God for creating a world that included the cider slushie. And five minutes after that, my heart was full of peace and joy.
I never wanted that moment to end. And, in a way, it didn’t; every time I recall it, I relive it, and I can’t help but smile.
That’s pretty much the way happiness works, I think. At least it’s the way it works for me. It is at once elusive and right in front of my face.
Wanna share a small, happy moment? Please do! Write me a comment!
The recipient of that cat stamp was the nine-year-old son of blogger extraordinaire Jilanne Hoffmann. The young man enjoyed my doodling efforts, I’m pleased to say, and, as a thank you, he sent me a hilarious, hand-drawn comic book and a “Celebrate Falling” stamp.
I was impressed and grateful. So I sent him a thank you note with another stamp drawing, “Celebrate Comics.”
I also bang out a couple of couplets in the comment sections of other blogs. At Catherine Johnson’s place, for example I penned this little gem:
Master Sculptor, bearing chisel,
Stopped his work to take a whizzle.
And so the marble had to wait,
For Sculptor to evacuate.
Wait! Where are you going? There’s more!
This next poem is out of season, but, hey, why not? In December, Sarah Wesson hosted a contest, asking her readers to write a poem. After a little cajoling on Sarah’s part, I wrote the following to the tune of Jingle Bells. Please feel free to sing it out loud at work:
Writing Christmas cards,
To those who do not care,
Like stupid Uncle Ted,
Does his still live there?
Oh, wait, I think he died,
Killed by a crazy tramp,
Gee, that really made my day,
I saved myself a stamp!
See how I brought the post back around to the topic of stamps? Pretty good, eh? This is why they pay me the big bucks!
But, seriously, Hoffmanns, you guys are going down.
I’m not a fan of Chinese food. Never was. Years ago, when my parents and older sister noshed on moo shu pork, I was served scrambled eggs with a side dish of threats:
“If you say our food smells like poop one more time,” Mom announced, “I’m going to make you eat it.”
But I always liked fortune cookies — not for the taste, which was, at best, meh, but for the secret message. Opening one always made me feel like a spy.
“Here is a message from my contact,” I thought. “Now I will know where to find the microfilm!”
So, poop smell or no, as least I could look forward to that.
I bring this up because there has been some fortune cookie news that has recently come to my attention. Some parents complained about the fortunes they received. These fortunes, they asserted, were “suggestive” and inappropriate for children.
Here is an example of one such suggestive fortune:
“One who admires you greatly is hidden before your eyes.”
Shocking, I know. I hope my blog dosn’t lose its “G” rating.
Complaints like this don’t surprise me. Some people’s lives are defined by being outraged. So this kind of stuff is par for the course.
Wonton Foods, the world’s largest fortune cookie baker and the target of this parental outrage, responded to the complaint. In a public statement, the company announced that, from now on, it would no longer print fortunes of a romantic nature.
This didn’t surprise me either. All things considered, who cares if the “You will meet a tall, dark stranger,” fortunes go missing?
But then Wonton Foods said something that did surprise me. The company vowed that its new fortunes “[will no longer] upset a single person.”
What bothers me about the above statement — aside from the fact that it is ludicrous and unobtainable — is that the company is giving itself permission to be bland. I offer as proof an actual fortune that will be found in the new and improved Wonton Foods cookie:
“You make every day special.”
Thanks, Barney the Dinosaur!
Oh, and congratulations, Wonton Foods, for you have already failed the Won’t-Upset-A-Single-Person Test, for I am offended by your fortune’s lameness.
*Sigh*
OK, I’m done with the snarkiness.
Listen, Wonton, I understand your position. I do. I understand why you decided to remove the romantic fortunes. I think it is absurd that you were pressured to do so, but I get it.
But you will never not offend all of the people all of the time. The world is full of nutty people and there is no way to anticipate what will set them off. Could you have ever predicted the firestorm that accompanied, “One who admires you greatly is hidden before your eyes?” See my point?
So please put that ‘not offending anyone” idea out of your mind right now. Instead, take solace in knowing that, by employing good taste and common sense, you can avoid offending most people. That’s good enough.
And when more complaints trickle in – and they will – deal with them on a case-by-case basis, apologize freely, and move on.
A real fortune I received. Food for thought.
That said, there is a silver lining here, Wonton. Why not use your new “No Romance” policy to try something different and exciting? The most creative solutions often emerge when creators are confronted with barriers and restrictions.
Your new fortunes could be enigmatic. They could offer genuine insight. Be witty and wise. Ask a soul-searching question that can serve as a conversation starter.
You could actually use your cookie to provide an after dinner morsel of profundity. How cool is that?
Please contact me, Wonton. I’d love to hear what you think. I’m easy to spot; I’m the guy eating scrambled eggs.
Commenters! My wonderful, creative commenters!
Do you have a fortune you would like to pitch to Wonton Foods? Write it below! Show the fine folks at Wonton how it’s done!
Hey, Look! A Writer Fellow! 