The Happiest Day Of My Life

I now realize that when I’m stressed, I organize.
When I’m upset, I stuff myself with cookies.
When I’ve got something to say, I write.
When I need reassurance that my brain is still working, I attempt CryptoQuips.
When I want to tune out the world, I read.
When I want to calm myself, I knit.
When I want to distract myself, I play Mah Jongg online with robots.
When I’m at loose ends, I create.
And when I’m deeply agitated, I wax nostalgic.
 
In light of the televised hearings centering on how close our democracy came to tumbling down on January 6, the  continuing fall-out from SCOTUS striking down Roe vs Wade and the emerging realization of the appalling lack of police support in Uvalde and the recent needless deaths of more than 50 migrants packed into an unairconditioned truck trailer, fond memories of simpler, happier times are growing more fonder. 
 
As a result, I am running one of my most favorite columns once again: 
 
The Happiest Day of my Life
 
I must admit that the Fourth of July holds a very special place in my heart, having nothing to do with the Declaration of Independence or The Stars and Stripes. It was a 4th of July week-end in 1975 that my high school held its 10th year reunion.
 
In June 1975, after a year’s separation, six years of marriage and two children, my first husband and I got an amicable, but upheaving, divorce in Tampa. Having decided to move back to my hometown, I flew up to Cincinnati to find an apartment and attend my reunion.
 
Thoughts of high school reunions evoke a lot of emotions – dread, excitement, curiosity and apprehension. Going back to my 10th reunion single only heightened my anticipation. Would there be anybody for me to date?
 
As it turned out, there was. 
 
A white suit …a tanned face… massive shoulders… startling blue eyes… I’ll never forget the moment I saw him nor my reaction: “Whatever happened to the creepy little kid from Bond Hill Elementary School?” I screeched. He smiled shyly.
 
(Below is our third grade school class picture with our faces circled.)
 

 
His name was Steven. We’d gone all through grade school and high school together – never associating with the same crowd – never exchanging more than a hurried “hello” or a banal “How are You?”
  
Being surrounded by my high school cronies that night, I naturally regressed to high school behavior. My stomach fluttered. My laugh was high pitched. My words came out silly. I turned on the charm and flirted outrageously. When we parted later that evening, he asked me to call him when I moved back. I did.
 
By October, we were dating steadily. By March, we were discussing marriage. By August, we had “tied the knot.”
 

 
That was forty-seven years ago and my husband and I have been blessed with many happy events in the intervening years, but none has ever quite touched us as deeply as the day we connected at our 10^th high school reunion held over July 4^th weekend, 1975. 
 
Keep Preserving Your Bloom,
 
Iris Ruth Pastor
 

Just as crucial to happiness is our own personal well-being. What do you do when uncomfortable feelings descend? How do you “water yourself”? I’d like to know.