Finding the Goodness and Happiness—It’s Out There

Finding the Goodness and Happiness—It’s Out There
These days, we all live life at full tilt with no half-measures. We either “really, really love”
something, or we “absolutely, positively hate” something. At work, at home, and in society, we
constantly judge the actions and intentions of others. So, what if we pulled back? We didn’t
judge. We saw what was actually taking place.

A Little Story—One
My wife and I have a one-year-old rescue pup (Stormy) who has never met a person, dog, cat, or

squirrel she didn’t love and wanted to lick and play with. She is 42.8 pounds of nonstop activity,
wiggles, jumping, and full-tilt play—she lives up to her name. We walk Stormy every morning
and evening after work and before bed, but she is constantly in play mode of “Throw the ball and
watch me stop it…” (she rarely brings it back) or “Throw the ball down the stairs and I’ll jump
up in your lap with it… whether you want me to or not.”
On most morning walks, we run across some of the locals in the neighborhood. Some live in
huge—turn of the last century—houses, some in the local apartments, and some are currently
unhoused. Stormy jumps and plays and licks each person equally. She doesn’t care about
economics or background. She sees a soul that is a possible playmate.

A Little Story—Two
Stormy and I encountered many different things while walking around our old neighborhood.
One in particular stands out. There is a small Red Bud tree in a local boulevard park that has an
old shelf lying under it. It’s just a particle board shelf with a light wood veneer laminated over
the top. But it was obviously placed there by someone who wanted to sit there and use the tree as
a backrest. Even though you can see the board only if you’re almost right on top of it, some people in the neighborhood complain about it being there. It’s bothered some enough to retrieve
and throw the board away. But soon, another board always finds its way back.
Over time, I’ve noticed children in school uniforms reading textbooks, a 20-something doing
yoga, and an unhoused man taking a siesta—all on this old shelf under the tree. Each person was
quietly doing their own thing and not causing a scene. But one was a minor thorn in the
neighborhood’s collective side and was a point of discussion. Guess which one.

Story One and Story Two Converge
The other day, I was mowing our lawn, and the gate was open a little wider than I’d hoped. Sure
enough, “Stormy the Quick” saw her opportunity for freedom and took it. Zip! A black streak
flew past me, and I could do nothing about it. We live on a street posted at 25 MPH, but most
cars fly by at 40, 50, or 60 miles per hour. Sure enough, Stormy was playing a game of “Can’t
catch me” and running from one side of the street to the other and back again—not caring or
seeing the cars hurtling in her direction. After a good 20 minutes of standing in the street, trying
to get the vehicles to slow just enough to be aware of our loose furry cannonball, I saw a man
sitting and minding his own business on the steps of a nearby duplex. As Stormy raced past, I
yelled at him for his help to catch her. He tried, but Stormy still thought it was a game of “Can’t
catch me!” We tried together for another five minutes. Then, the man did something entirely
unexpected and wonderful. He pulled out a shelf-stable microwave meal of stew from his
shoulder bag and opened it. Stormy resembled a heat-seeking missile flying toward a target. She
pounced on the stew and lapped it up in three giant gulps. That gave the man just enough time to
grab her collar. I retrieved Stormy from the man and thanked him for helping. That’s when I
recognized him. He was the unhoused man quietly napping under the Red Bud tree on the old veneer shelf. He was the man who was the “thorn in the side” of several in the neighborhood. He
was the man—who sacrificed his dinner for Stormy’s sake.
The man didn’t ask for a replacement dinner, or cash, or any payment other than he was thirsty
and asked if I would give him some water. I trundled back with a squirming 42.8 pounds of
playful puppy and grabbed several cans of water and soda. Then, I made a quick chicken salad
sandwich and slipped it all into a bag. The man said I didn’t have to do all that; he was just
thirsty. I assured him that I was happy to offer it to him for the help of grabbing Stormy and
luring her in with his own dinner.
Then I stuck out my hand and said, “By the way, my name is Ben.” He looked at me, then my
hand, then back at me for a long moment. He warily took my hand, shook it, relaxed a bit, and
began to smile. “I’m Harold.” He continued to shake my hand like he hadn’t shaken someone's
hand in a long time and wanted to remember what it felt like. I smiled back and said, “Well, great
to meet you, Harold, and thank you again for catching Stormy.” He smiled, thanked me, and
walked down the street, taking a big bite of chicken salad sandwich.

What Do You Choose to Observe?
In these—our times—we continue to overlook the good for the broadcast of the bad. For years,
news agencies have capitalized on “If it bleeds, it leads” journalism, often overlooking truly
heroic goodness around us. The writer Hunter Thompson once said, “Good news is rare these
days, and every glittering ounce of it should be cherished and hoarded and worshipped and
fondled like a priceless diamond.” I’m afraid I have to disagree. I think good news is a regular
occurrence. I think good news is all around us every day. I think there is good news is what every day people do all the time. But we have been trained out of looking for the good and ferreting out
the bad.
So why not become a trendsetter? Hey! If people can set all-time records on TikTok or “X” or
Facebook for doing a dance, making a silly face, or working a magic trick, why can’t we show
the good side of humanity, the positive side of being a good person, the affirming side of doing
the right thing?
I’ve heard it all my life. “This world is going to hell in a handbasket!” Well, let’s prove them
wrong! I challenge everyone out there to combat the negative, the salacious, the Chicken Little
“The sky is falling” mentality and message with something kind, helpful, or uplifting. Why
should all the negativity cloud and overtake the good, the hopeful, and the inspiring? I challenge
everyone for the next week, two weeks, however long it takes to become a habit… to post or tell
one good thing you have seen or observed in real life daily. It could be someone who carried
your groceries to your car when you needed help. It could be witnessing a neighbor’s kid mowing
the elderly neighbor’s yard. It could be the car in front of you handing a sandwich to the
unhoused person on the street corner. Whatever it is, post it! Share it! Talk about it! Let’s take
back the world we want and deserve to live in!