Eleanor Roosevelt
Eleanor Roosevelt once said, “Great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small minds discuss people.”
. My father was an idea kind of guy, which always surprised me, because he was a farmer, all his life. He always gravitated toward the simple pleasures. The satisfaction of a hard day’s work, a nighttime sky full of stars, his wife and kids, his friends, his church. You don’t normally think of a farmer, as a great thinker. And yet, he seemed to be constantly examining new ideas and reexamining old ideas, in new ways. He was a spiritual man and he studied his religion, his whole life. One of his favorite themes was this: “Man is, that he might have joy”.
During a visit to my home in Nashville, a couple of years before his death, we
The Idea Guy, On His Farm
sat up late one night chatting, and he talked to me about that idea. He said, “Isn’t it amazing that a thought containing only seven words can also contain so much power to guide someone through an entire life?” I had no idea what he meant, when he said it, but hours later, when we finally bid each other good night, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I still can’t. It is a powerful series of seven words. Whether viewed from a spiritualist viewpoint, like my father, or a secularist viewpoint, it still works.
Of course, we must first accept the concept taught by his church and embraced by him – that man was specifically created to experience joy. The dictionary advises that the word springs from Middle English and means “intense and especially ecstatic or exultant happiness“. If you think about it, this is a central theme in all great religions of the world. Most basic teachings in these various religions get back to the pursuit and ultimate achievement of a feeling of joy, in one way or another. If you happen to be someone who follows no organized religion, you would undoubtedly still agree that the pursuit of joy is a universal human characteristic and an altogether worthwhile thing.
My wise father worked it out in this way:
- God created us to experience joy, so we should be feeling joy.
- If we do not feel joy, something is wrong in our lives.
- Anger, frustration, jealousy, disappointment, pettiness, depression and so forth are not joy and therefore it is incorrect and counterproductive to harbor these feelings any longer than necessary.
- If you are feeling any of these things, it is imperative to pause and plan specific changes in your life that will bring you back to joy.
- Once you have executed your plan and can look back upon the event, belief or thought that made you feel one of those “joyless” feelings and realize that you now feel a quiet, peaceful, pervasive joy in your daily life, you can assume that the problem has been dealt with and your life is back on track.
That’s it. My father just saved you thousands of dollars in expensive therapy.
Let me suggest that we don’t have to subscribe to my father’s church teachings to accept an idea, like this. We don’t even have to believe in God. We just have to understand that a joyful life is more worth living than a joyless life and accept the construct that Dad laid out for me, that evening in Nashville.
Dad actually took it one step farther, by saying that as a member of the human family, we should be mindful not only of our own joy, but also of the joy in the lives of people, within our own personal sphere of influence. He suggested that making an effort to increase joy in other lives would undoubtedly bring additional joy to us.
As I examine Dad’s life for evidence that he followed this idea, I find that it is chock full of examples of all kinds.
I have a snapshot of Dad holding one of his great grandchildren high in the air, with her legs pumping wildly. They are rubbing noses and both are just cackling. Joy, just as easily as that.
I remember visiting Dad, once, and hearing the doorbell ring. As I opened the door, a ten year old girl bounced through it, ahead of her mother and skipped across the room to slide onto the sofa, next to her 85-year-old buddy. As she approached, Dad raised his arm to accept her into a friendly hug and instantly, they were catching up on each other’s lives. It didn’t seem to be important to either of them that there was three quarters of a century between them – they were friends and they were enjoying each other’s company. You could see the joy in their eyes. It didn’t matter to Dad how old a person was. It just mattered that they were part of his life and they deserved joy as much as he did.
He even brought joy into the lives of complete strangers. I got a phone call at work one day, in Nashville. He wanted to tell me about a recent adventure and he laughed all the way through the story. He had noticed that the mail person (a woman, in this case) had delivered his mail in the middle of a snow storm and winced, against the fierce, cold wind, as she rolled down her window to open the mailbox and insert the mail. The next day, there was a plate of fresh home-baked cookies from Dad inside the mailbox with a note, saying “I appreciate your hard work in bringing me notes from my friends and news of the world, every day.” The next day, his doorbell rang. As he opened it, the mail carrier handed him the mail and said, “For cookies, I deliver in person.” I’ll bet she will be telling that story for years.
He and my mother made sure they injected joy into each other’s lives and the lives of their children, daily. We lived on a farm that bordered the Snake River and we had a favorite fire-pit on the banks of the river, where we had family picnics. Every few days at the end of a hard day on the family farm, he would say to me, “Jimmy, go up to the river and cut some willows (we 
sharpened the ends so we could impale wieners and hold them over the fire for hot-dogs) . Don’t let anyone see you – I want to surprise your mother.” Simple stuff. Joyful stuff. It worked every time. I can still create those evenings in my mind. Watching the stars, listening to the river, smelling the food and watching the bonfire work its way into glowing embers.
There was one joyful event in my life as a five-year-old that he completely missed, and I’ve always been sorry about that, because he would have loved it.
It was customary in my family, to enjoy a huge family feast at my grandmothers house, every Christmas Eve. We feasted, sang Christmas carols, exchanged small gifts with our cousins and then quickly gathered up wrappings and piled into the car for the short trip home, because everyone knows that if a boy or girl isn’t in bed early, with the lights turned out, Santa may be forced to miss your house and fly on to the next one. Normally, we would dive into bed, get our good night hug from Mom and Dad and try really hard to force sleep. This particular night was especially nerve-wracking, because we had returned home somewhat late and it was already dark. I was worried that we needed to move fast, so Santa wouldn’t miss us. As I was 
getting into pajamas, Dad remembered something that he had forgotten to do in the garage and had to leave. So Mom said that she would take care of the official parental hug, to save time, which seemed eminently sensible to me. You won’t believe what happened, but I swear it’s true. Just as Mom was leaning in to kiss me, we actually heard a sleigh bell and some footsteps on the roof, above my bedroom! Holy Toledo! It was him! My eyes have never slammed shut so fast in my life. I almost had a heart attack. And my father missed the whole thing. I’ve always been sorry about that, because it was so important for him to spread joy to the lives of others. He would have loved it.
I reminded him of the story, a few years ago and he smiled and said he wished he could have been there. It would have been fun to see the expression on his son’s face. That’s all he ever said about it.
Yes, indeed. My dad understood the clinical benefits of spreading joy to the lives of others.
I tell you, this could be a major scientific breakthrough – the Joy Barometer. Just ask yourself once a day, “Do I feel joy?” If the answer is yes, pat yourself on the back and enjoy your day. If the answer is no, think about the things or thoughts that are preventing it and change them. The American Medical Association should study my dad’s philosophy. We would all live to be at least 102 and we would all enjoy the journey a lot more.
Joy. It really is the best medicine. Take two and call me in the morning. And by the way, you’re welcome.