Happy Merry Christmas!

I’ve noticed that some people are saying “Happy Christmas” lately rather than “Merry Christmas.” Is this more of the “woke” society, or is it only my non-American friends? I researched the origin of each of those greetings. The saying “Merry Christmas” is from the days of yore. (How many times do we get to say, yore?) Author Charles Dickens used that greeting in his classic, A Christmas Carol, in 1843.

“Happy Christmas” was first used by British royalty, and that version of the greeting became traditional among the English. Some say the word “Happy” has a higher class connotation than”Merry,” which was once associated with the rowdiness of the lower classes. Think of how all the Christmas carols would sound if we replaced Merry with Happy. I don’t like it. I’m lower class, I guess.

Depending on one’s definition of the words, I mostly feel merry or content, but I seldom call it happy or elated. Most people I know don’t go around being joyous or elated but are content and fulfilled and have good lives. Fortunately, I have a wonderful life, although sometimes there are things that dampen it.

For example, we have access to an excellent fitness center in our complex with all the bells and whistles. Hubby occasionally reminds me I should use those state-of-the-art facilities or take free exercise or dance classes. Finally, guilt prevailed, and I signed up for my first dance class. I was going to start moving again!

Before signing up, I spoke to the instructor. She was physically fit, full of life, and 30 years younger than me. I described my concern about the class being too physically strenuous for my age. She assured me that it wouldn’t be. I didn’t have to do the high kicks like my classmates to benefit from the class; low kicks were also acceptable. This made me feel really good about attending the class.

When I walked in, I was dismayed to discover that the exercise room had floor-to-ceiling mirrors on all four walls! There would be no visual escape from seeing my body and other people exercising from every possible angle! No problem, I thought.

Two other women who were much younger than me came into the class. So here I am, like a deer in the headlights, in this large room surrounded by four unavoidable mirrors with three much younger women – the instructor and the two other students. All three were dressed in cool designer tights and stylish athletic tops. Their decorative dance shoes looked like they came from a high-end store. I wore purple tights and a baggy, loose-fitting beige sweater reminiscent of a gunny sack. My shoes were solid black walking shoes that I got on the cheap from Costco. I was beginning to feel self-conscious before the class even started. Then it got worse.

The class began. The attractive, lithe instructor stood before us and quickly went through the steps we would perform in the dance for that day. She started the music, began dancing with her back to us, and shouted out terse, verbal instructions. I’m sure she was watching me through the numerous mirrors! Peeking at my classmates’ performances, I quickly realized they must have attended the class before—likely many times before. They were as good as the instructor and looked as if they were ready for the Radio City Rockettes!

After 20 minutes of painful low kicking, trying lamely to jump rope, twist, and twirl at the same time, I glanced at my pitiful self in the mirrors. UGLY! What to do? I’ve never been a quitter, but I’ve also never auditioned for the Folies Bergère before!

The class was slated for 50 minutes. That’s 50 minutes of solid dancing! Thirty minutes to go, and I am breathing hard. I thought, should I stay or go? A significant benefit of aging is realizing I no longer feel compelled to continue enduring unpleasant tasks. I’ve pulled my thumb from a number of vises before. For example, I no longer force myself to finish a book I start and don’t like. On the other hand, I would have to deal with my personal humiliation of quitting and admit my failure to Hubby.

The room lighting was very bright, so there was no way I could sneak out without the three other now-perspiring dancers noticing. After one last furtive but disappointing glance at myself in the mirrors, I made a courageous decision. I had enough. As I attempted to slink out quietly toward the door, all three dancers behind me yelled out loudly, “Goodbye, Roberta!” AARGH!

As I left the fitness center with my head held low and an expression of complete dejection, I was given a momentary reprieve. A woman I didn’t know called out, “Excuse me, ma’am!”
I stopped. Now what?

“Where did you get those gorgeous purple tights?”

“Costco. Size large. They have pockets, too.” I replied.

She smiled broadly, “Thank you! Next time my husband goes to Costco, I will tell him to get me a pair.”

I felt a bit better, but not completely. On my way home, I stopped at my friend’s house to delay going home and telling my husband I had failed. The friend was not home, and Hubby was mercifully very supportive. He didn’t seem to think much about it at all.

To improve my mood, I decided to read a book. It was pretty good, but I have become very critical since I have been editing Hubby’s novels. For many years, after I finished reading books, I rated them on Goodreads. If you don’t know Goodreads and are an avid reader, you should check it out. It’s a free website and app that helps readers find, rate, and track books.

I decided to give the book I just finished a rating of 4 stars. When I went to Goodreads to rate it, I discovered that I had read it ten years ago and had given it a 5-star rating! I couldn’t recall anything about reading the book before. Oh no! This was just another senior moment exposing my diminishing ability to do anything! I needed a lift!

Cleaning the house typically cheers me up. However, I can no longer clean to my traditional standards, but I found someone who does. I have two cleaning ladies who come in for two hours every other week, but they don’t do the heavy work, such as cleaning the windows inside and out, the garage, or the outside of the house itself. My bridge friends recommended an excellent heavy-duty cleaning service that would do those things.

I contacted the owner of that service. Yes, for $300, they will clean all the windows inside and out and hose off the entire outside of the house.

“Do you clean the garage floor?”

“Yes, ma’am, for $50 more.”

“Do you clean the roof, solar panels, and skylights?”

“Yes, ma’am, for $50 more.”

A cleaning session was scheduled. A young crew of three plus the owner showed up precisely on time. In just under three hours, all their work was accomplished. The windows sparkled. Windows that I thought needed replacement just needed a good scrub. Hubby says our solar panels are now 20% more productive. The garbage cans were clean. The mailbox no longer had bird “doo” on it. Yes, my bad mood lifted. Everything around me sparkled. Because it was nearly Christmas, I gave them an extra $50.

I wanted to share this incredible experience, so I recommended the company on Nextdoor. Nextdoor is a free social network connecting neighbors, businesses, and public agencies to share information, goods, and services. The response I received from that review was amazing. Many people wanted to know more about it. As it turned out, 3,000 people viewed that posting.

A few days passed, and one evening, the phone rang. It was the cleaning service owner.

“Roberta, did you recommend my company on Nextdoor?”

“Yes! I did.”

“I want to thank you. The phone has been ringing off the hook, and I am swamped now. I really appreciate it. No one has ever done that for me before. It made me want to cry.”

A woman’s voice in the background said plaintively, “Tell her thank you!”

My phone was on speaker, and Hubby overheard the call. Hearing the genuine emotion in the grateful man’s words, we both had tears. I was elated to think that such little effort from me brought such joy to someone! You just never know! If it isn’t one thing, it’s another.

Lately, this getting old has started to weigh on me. I don’t feel like I have both feet on the ground. (Actually, I don’t. They are raised as I recline in my LazyBoy.) I need to improve my attitude and become “Happy” like a friend who just celebrated his 95th birthday. He has a personality that is always smiling and jovial. In fact, he is so jolly that his nickname is Happy.

So, how does one achieve that persistently happy outlook? I Googled and read. The advice was rather mundane – eat healthy foods, exercise, get a hobby, become spiritual, surround yourself with others, do volunteer work, brush your teeth, go to the doctor, don’t smoke, drink, meditate, and on they raved.

From my experience with my grateful cleaning contractor, having him appreciate the good deed I did for him made me very happy!

So, in closing, I don’t know if it’s better to be happy, content, fulfilled, or merry. Perhaps we can be all of those things. On that note, I will happily sit in my Lazy Boy, relax contentedly while sipping a fulfilling glass of wine, and listen to “Have Yourself a Very Merry Christmas!”

MERRY Christmas and HAPPY New Year to all!

Are there things that make you particularly happy or content? If so, please share them as a Christmas present to our readers. They always appreciate your comments.