Hello everybody out there. How are you doing today? My name is Lisa D, the chatty waitress at Billy’s Cafe that Sports the rainbow of Chuck Taylors each day. Are you ready to help me spread some laughter?
Today I would like to explain why I am a “Happy” and not a “Grumpy” from the Disney tale, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Mainly because I am no Snow White, but in all honesty, I’d rather be a “Dopey” than a Grumpy any day.
Growing up, I was the youngest of three girls in our family. My oldest sister Melinda (aka Matilda Marmalade) was born in 1961 with a rare bone disease called Osteogenesis Imperfecta, OI. Basically, she was born with “glass-like bones.”
Seven years later, I came along, “Little Miss Perfect!”
I was a big, healthy, strong, and alert baby. I caught on quickly, and I took charge immediately. By the time I could talk I was telling everyone what to do. Yet, I was so healthy it almost felt like a curse sometimes, living with my poor, unhappy and sometimes miserably sad sister. This made me pledge early off in my life that I would do whatever it took to keep my big sister safe and happy. I would be her cheerleader. I would keep her occupied and entertained during her “broken periods” no matter what, and I would share any and all my fascinating adventures with her for as long as we lived.
Back then, we owned every Hasbro board game ever made. We would play card games and board games for hours. We would build puzzles for weeks at a time and make crafts for every occasion, while Melinda spent her months at a time housebound. I would make up crazy, creepy and silly stories, while she was in the hospital or bed ridden too. Plus, Melinda had hundreds of casts during our childhood years, sometimes more than one at a time. I remember one time, she simply misstepped over a crack in our front walkway and ended up being rushed in an ambulance to the hospital, where she was diagnosed with two broken arms and a broken leg. Yes, she sure did know how to supply me with a lot of canvas, so to speak, so I learned to be very gentle while I spent hours creatively and colorfully decorating her casts. I took pride in my artwork and in making her look fabulous. Hence, I now have artistic and Ambidextrous hands because of it. (A great waitress trick – multi-serving two-handed coffee pots.)
When Melinda was 16-years old, she went away for a year to a children’s hospital in Upstate New York. Up until then, our parents tried their best to not interrupt her education during her off times. Public school transit, tutors at our home when necessary. Jersey winters were rough. Blythedale Children’s Hospital offered a place where she could be taught how to become an independent adult despite her disabilities. Plus, she could get her high school diploma from a safe classroom filled with other children that had physical and mental challenges. She could finally make friends. My parents and I visited her every Sunday while she lived there, and in addition to everything she learned, I too learned a very important lesson: What it truly means to be blessed, and how lucky I was to simply be healthy.
Even through all her aches, pains, brakes and bruises, surgeries and scares, my now 60-year old big sister is still the happiest go-getter gal I know, and even all grown up we both still believe in the fairy tales. Rainbows and unicorns do exist, if you believe. The trick is to never give up hope. “Optimism is the key to a happy life,” says my fortune cookie.
So why isn’t everyone happy? According to Mama Commodore, a dear sweet Centenarian I had the privilege to interview years ago, “It’s all about choice!”
At the time, I was the Managing Editor for a local Lake County magazine, and I was writing a Centenarian Column. Mama Commodore was my guest for that month, and she was about to turn 101. According to my background information, she was a black woman born and raised and never left Leesburg Florida. She had already outlived nearly everyone she ever knew. She had already buried her parents, her siblings, her children and even some of her grandchildren, but she was proud to admit that she was still holding strong.
I was scheduled to interview her at a nearby nursing home, where she resided. I was on my way to meet her, and I was involved in a car accident. It wasn’t my fault, but for the first time ever, I just happened to be driving my husband’s truck. I was shook up, and it knocked out my driver’s side headlight. I could have been crunched from behind, but luckily for me, the guy behind me was a safe and courteous driver that actually stopped to check on me before driving off, because the idiot in front of me that just caused all the commotion, uncaringly disappeared into the morning traffic.
Meanwhile, I got to my interview 20 minutes late. Momma Commodore was already waiting for me in the screened patio section at the home. Before we could even make formal introductions, she immediately commented on my uneasiness. She wanted to know if I was okay? I briefly relayed my morning events, to which she quickly reached out for my hand and laid it in hers before saying, “All is well. You’re here. You’re safe. No harm done.”
I felt an instant relief like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders and I was suddenly at ease. Then, she went on to reassure me that the Angels had guided me. My truck was driveable. No one had to be rushed away in an ambulance. Everything was fixable. So I ran a little late, she said with a giggle, because as she reminded me, she had so many places to be.
Wow! I thought. I was here to interview her and instead she seemed to have just counseled me. Amazing, and all that before I even got to learn anything about her or her life. That was in 2001, which made her birth year 1900. You could only imagine what her life was like growing up through all the history of being born in the south during that time frame. She lived through the civil rights movement and everything that came after it. Through it all, here she sat, the most lovely woman I had ever met. She truly excreted happiness. She told me that day, “Lil Momma, there are two sides of the fence: HAPPINESS and MISERY. We all choose. Those who choose to be on the misery side will always try their best to drag you onto their side, because misery loves company. Don’t go there. Don’t let anyone choose for you. Make the honest choice every day to NOT be miserable!”
I will take that advice to my grave, and because of the spiritual connection I made with Momma Commodore that enlightening day, I TRY everyday to skip through life on the merry and joyous side of that beautiful white picket fence. So, all you GRUMPYS, try not to come too close or I might just manage to convince you to come over to my side. If you remember correctly even Grumpy, in the story, helps to save the day. Proving down deep, we all want to ride the train to Pleasantville. Unfortunately, some of us literally have to be persuaded. All good. I’m here for you, and I promise if our paths ever do cross I will sense you like a dog smells fear, and I will give it my best Girl Scout’s effort to help you find the light and cross over. (Metaphorically speaking, of course) And then, like “Poppy,” the happy, pink girl troll, I will get us all to play nicely together! Because, according to my 5-year old grandson, that is the NICE thing to do. Go figure. Out of the mouths of babes!
By the way, I am sorry, but I watched way too many kid’s cartoon movies during my four month – no work – pandemic lockdown. So, find your inner child and be kind.
Laugh on. Peace out!
Lisa DeMarco is a columnist for Villages-News.com and a waitress at Billy’s Cafe.
