Time for something uplifting. Believe it or not, there are things in this life that make me laugh. It's about time I shared. I'm going to talk about some of the people I encounter in my life. I will try to keep them anonymous.
Remember my neighbors across the street? The ones I used to watch beating their bubble Christmas decorations into standing upright? Well, guess what? It's April, and those decorations are still lying dead in the front yard. I've known that people don't always take down their lights, but these are the first people I've seen turn their front yard into a bubble decoration graveyard. I laugh every time I drive past.
Last week at church, a woman who appears to me to be in fine health, asked me for recommendations for songs to be played at her funeral. I was flabbergasted. What advice would you give her? It was awful for me; all I could think of were Beatles songs. I Don't Want to Spoil the Party, So I'll Go. She's Leaving Home. Eleanor Rigby. Maxwell's Silver Hammer. I went with Amazing Grace, but she rolled her eyes and turned her back to me because everybody has that one.
Remember the guys in my Cane Fu class? They've gone from distrusting me to everybody wanting to be my personal tutor. Because I just don't do it right. And they're correcting me for my own good because they don't want me to get attacked and not survive. I have to stop hitting like a girl. Kicking like a girl. Walking like a girl. Last Thursday, I had one guy behind me swinging my arm like you might teach someone how to golf, another beside me telling me to follow his moves, and two on the sidelines giving directions. I've never been so popular. I've begged Terry at the Senior Center to try to get another woman to take the class and the pressure off me. No luck.
Friday, I tried a new class at the Senior Center, chair Zumba. I injured my knee a while ago, and regular Zumba cripples me for a few days after each class, so I figured I'd try that class. The instructor's good. I worked up a sweat, and my arms felt the burn. But my classmates, oh my classmates. There are a few women my age and above who work out in a way I'm used to doing. But the rest of the class is the happiest group of adults you'll ever find. They are mentally challenged adults bused in from a local assisted living center. I laughed the whole afternoon, not AT them but WITH them. They were so happy to have a new person in class, and they made sure to tell me I was doing good. One of them, a blind gentleman, heard the beginning of Tom Jones's Delilah and he just belted it out. He had a deep bass voice, and we gave him a round of applause. But the best part was Pharrell What-his-name's Happy. That's a powerful song. People who had been sitting there kind of flapping their hands, perked up to dance. Everybody was singing along and dancing with joy. As soon as the music stopped, they all sat down again, somber, like a switch had been flipped. But, I was still smiling. I love that song and its effect on people. I'm going to enjoy that class...I think.
Winter was rough on me. March wears me out; I hate that month. But it's April! It was sunny and warm today. Time to realize there is joy to be had in the simplest of things (and people).
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