May 1: A few weeks ago, my exercise studio celebrated a friend’s 500th class. Foot-high illuminated “5-0-0” numerals decorated her usual space and we applauded enthusiastically when the instructor announced her achievement. Stepping out of the exercise room into the studio lobby, we were greeted by more celebration: her husband and daughter with grins on their faces and flowers in their hands, along with another 5-0-0 in big balloons. They passed around flutes of champagne (everyone knows champagne has zero calories when drunk at an exercise studio) and we cheered Kathi again. Suddenly, the 5 drifted to the rafters. We cheered a third time.
This morning, I looked up at the rafters. The balloon still there. A little bit saggy, but still shiny. Just like us?
May 2: I live in a small town; to its credit, the town’s website seems easy to navigate via drop-down menus and internet searches. And yet I could not find a street map. I sought nothing fancy: not a map speckled with icons for our parks; or a map marking our streams, culverts and storm drains (tempting as that was); or a map showing zoning districts. Just a simple street map. It could be dated 1985, for all I cared.
So finally I did what any 1980s person would do: ask a librarian. I entered our library, made my request, grabbed a sunny chair and started reading. Five minutes later, I was gazing at the perfect map, courtesy of the librarian. He even made me a handful of copies.
On my way out the door an hour later (the sun was yummy), I stopped to chat with the librarian about how searches have changed since the 1980s. We reminisced about microfiche and the Readers’ Guide to Periodical Literature. He told me about now-gone drawers of maps and shelves of phonebooks. He mentioned research guides I’d never heard of.
There was a time when the local librarian was the information facilitator who could do everything from launching school research projects to settling bar bets. Would the librarian go back to those pre-internet days? No way. But boy was he happy to help a desperate person of a certain age who remembered that sometimes the best search engine of all sits behind a desk.
Bonus: As a crowd of us queued to enter the library this morning, a family rounded the corner on their way to the nearby farmers market and playground. Looking at the crowd, a five-year-old boy tugged at his parent’s hand: “I wish I could go to the library!”
May 3: Today, the little boy and I switched places: He probably made his weekly visit to the library, and I visited the farmers market in Berlin, Maryland, with my sister, Dianne. Dianne, who had recently moved to a perfect home in Berlin, was in search of local honey.
We found local honey — and an enthusiastic beekeeper who regaled us with fun bee facts. Did you know that bees have 50 times more smelling power than dogs? Or that people can train bees to sniff out contraband? Or that these police bees are buzzing in airports all over the world?
In training, the police bees are rewarded with nectar when they respond to a particular scent. In action, bees with particular scent specialties are lined up in a device, one lane per bee, with nectar just across a laser line. When the bees smell their particular contraband, they fly through the laser, which releases their reward and notifies their person that the contraband is nearby.
The bee gets its nectar and law enforcement catches the bad guy. I don’t think law enforcement actually calls them “police bees,” but I don’t see why not. Can you imagine the cute little uniforms?
May 4: Thanks to Kevin, we have solar panels on our long ranch-style house in Falls Church. (Lots of roof area.) I just read our monthly report. Since 2015 when we installed the solar panels, we have generated more than 48 thousand kilowatts of energy and, by meeting virtually all of our own electricity needs, have avoided generating nearly 54 thousand pounds of carbon dioxide. Good for you, Kevin, for helping us make a meaningful difference to protect our planet home.
May 5: When I drive home from our vacation house near Assateague Island in Maryland, I usually listen to a book, a podcast or a baseball game. Today, though, I rolled open my sunroof, cracked my windows and cued up my “Cassie Wholeheart” playlist.
For nearly three hours, I blasted my own personal radio station. I danced like no one was watching — because no one was. I sang loudly and off key. I kept raising the volume (“Oh, I love THIS one!”) and eventually figured out that if I lowered the volume during a song’s outro, I could raise the volume every time a new song came on. Washington, D.C., traffic gave me ten extra songs. Good deal!
Bonus: In case you’re wondering, some of my Happy Songs are:
- the Beach Boys’ “Surfin’ U.S.A.” (swimming pool games when my sons were small);
- Katrina and the Waves’ “Walking on Sunshine” (. . . and don’t it feel good?!);
- the Pointer Sisters’ “Jump (For My Love)” (Hugh Grant dancing like nobody’s watching in Love Actually);
- the Foundations’ “Build Me Up Buttercup” (the world’s most cheerful breakup song?);
- Earth, Wind & Fire’s “September” (Ba-dee-ya/Never was a cloudy day);
- Bruno Mars’ “Uptown Funk” (with or without this video of Hollywood Dancing to Uptown Funk);
- the Beatles’ “Twist and Shout” (John Lennon’s scorched vocals);
- the Turtles’ “Happy Together” (the opening credits to Freaky Friday); and of course
- Simon & Garfunkel’s “The 59th Street Bridge Song (Feeling Groovy)” (I’m talking to you, Carol Ann: slow down, you’re moving too fast, gotta make the morning last!).
What songs would you put on your Joy playlist?
May 6: “Carol Ann!” “Tracy!” We embraced outside Nationals Park like old friends, as in a sense we were. For the previous two hours, we had hugged and high-fived our way through fifteen (15!) runs in an exhilarating 15-2 Nationals victory. We met as strangers and, heading our separate ways out of the ballpark, we parted as friends.
I had arrived at the game uncharacteristically late, having enjoyed a curator-led tour at SAAM earlier in the evening. I finally reached my seat at the top of the fourth inning, with the Nats trailing 1-0. By the time Tracy and I caught our breath, Tracy had predicted a grand slam — which pushed the score to 14-2 in the 8th inning — and I had seen as many runs in five innings as I’d seen in my previous 29 innings, going back to 2025.
Hey, Tracy, for the Nationals’ sake, will you join me for my next game?
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Fashioned For Joy 
I particularly enjoyed May 5!
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“If everybody had an ocean / across the U.S.A. / then everybody’d be surfin’ / like Californ-i-a . . .” Watch out for Sharky, though! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️
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Asong of Joy for us is Bown-eyed Girl by Van Morrison. It was played while we were out as a family in our first mustang convertible. Which is pretty funny for a family of four blue-eyed folks.
I seem to recall you used a map of the little city in some of your lessons. I have to assume it was lost in a redesign of the website?
I’m so happy that you are publishing again. I so enjoy reading your insightful updates.
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Dear friend — Thank you so much for all the love! First, YES, “Brown-Eyed Girl” is actually on my Cassie Wholeheart playlist: I have brown eyes, and once when the song popped up on the radio, my husband Kevin dedicated it to me. It’s been my happy song ever since.
I love hearing about your family memory associated with that song — with your family eye color adding whimsey to the love!
The map! Wow, what a memory. I did indeed use a stormwater map of the City of Falls Church when I made a guest appearance at a high school environmental sciences class. It was a huge map, which the city kindly lent me — and I had to return it. But now you have me thinking how to use it again.
Finally, thank you for your very kind encouragement. It means the world to me. Writing this blog makes me happier (I notice a lot more) and I get to engage with kind and loving people like you. Joy, indeed.
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I loved your library story and the 500th ‘anniversary. “A little bit saggy, but still shiny” – certainly!!
I would probably also include The 59th Street Bridge Song on my play list. One definite one is Rihanna ‘We Found Love’ featuring Calvin Harris. Every time I hear it I want to dance.
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Hi, Barbara. I’m glad you could relate to my “balloon” metaphor! Very true about me 😂 Thanks for mentioning the Rihanna song featuring Calvin Harris. I’ll check it out, add it to my playlist — and think of you while I’m dancing!
Regarding The 59th Street Bridge song — YAY. I wanted to quote the entire thing, so I’ll take advantage of our friendship. Sometimes, as I’m walking down the sidewalk, I sing to myself “I’ve got nowhere to go, no promises to keep. I’m doubtful and drowsy and ready to sleep. Let the morning sun shower its petals on me. Life I love you! Feelin’ groovy.”
[Lyrics from memory, so . . . ]
Listening to Rihanna now — and dancing!
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Thank you for singing the praises of librarians. I spent almost my whole working life in the public library sector, and witnessed at first hand how the internet changed the library world forever. I can clearly remember one day in the early 1990s my colleague Roy casually remarking to the team that he’d just been reading about “something called the information superhighway” and adding that “I think it might be quite important one day”. Roy was a master of understatement!
Interestingly, we librarians contributed to out own demise, putting in banks of public access PCs and running classes to teach ordinary people to basics of IT literacy. But such was our success that these people quickly decided that they should get a computer of their own, and our services and skills became less valued.
In the city in which I spent the final years of my career, the main library shared a grand old building with the city museum. In my darker moments I did wonder whether I or one of colleagues should be shot, stuffed and put on display there as a poignant reminder of lost world, just like the museum’s collection of ancient Egyptian mummies! Don’t get me wrong, I totally agree with your local librarian in that I would not wish to return to a pre-internet world, but I do sometimes think life was a lot simpler back then.
On a more cheerful note, most of your Happy Songs struck a chord with me. In particular, Twist and Shout converted me to become a big fan of the Beatles, much to me father’s initial horror. Happy, happy days!
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Dear Mr. P. — Wow. I’m so glad to know about your career in the library sector. You and and all librarians are my heroes. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a librarian. (And a major league baseball player!) Sadly, I forgot my youthful calling; knowing that you pursued your love with such skill and humanity makes me both wistful and grateful for you and your colleagues! You should write about it on your blog!
I’m busy working on Falls Church’s celebrations for the American 250 anniversary. So, I’ve become very good friends with our town’s terrific librarians. Hmmm. I’ll leave THAT story for it’s own “Delight.”
The Beatles: my Dad actually was a huge Beatles fan. Hmmm. Another subject for a “Delight.” You are nourishing me today, Mr. P., as always!
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Speaking of Dads, it was because of my Dad that I became a librarian. He was from humble origins, born to a simple working class family in a poor area of London, and left school with little education at the age of just 14. And yet he became one of the sharpest, most erudite people I’ve ever known thanks mainly to what he learned as an adult courtesy of his local library. So, when the time came for me to decide what to do with my life, helping to give more ordinary folk the opportunities he had enjoyed seemed like the right way to go.
I suspect that my peer group at Cambridge University thought I was underselling myself, that I could have pushed myself harder and done more with my life. However, I believed then – as I still do today – that public libraries are an absolute good, and that working to support and develop them was a positive way to make use my own intellect and education. I know that public libraries can change people’s lives for the better, and I’m proud to have played a (modest) part in that.
And I, in turn, was able to help shape my Dad’s direction of travel. I’m delighted to report that I soon converted him into a Beatles fan who was happy buy and enjoy every new album they released. Way to go, Dad!
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Thank you for telling me more about your Dad and his influence on your public service career. Yes, libraries are indeed an “absolute good.” Your choice made a difference in many lives (happily including your Dad’s!).
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That photo of the horses was a happy accident. Love it! “I wish I could go to the library” sure is music to my ears. Woo-hoo and double woo-hoo to Kevin and the solar panels. And also to you. You two rock!
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I was thinking of you, Laurie, as I wrote about the solar panels! So thank you for your plaudits. I’ll pass them along to Kevin. And thank you for all the rest of your kindness. You rock too, my friend.
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A-w-w, nice!
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I love it: a bit saggy but still shiny!!!! Absolutely agree that all is well just as long as we have the bling!
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Oh, that is so true, Ju-Lyn. The older I get, the more bling I want (in my case, crazy necklaces). Thank you for sharing that smile!
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“I wish I could go to the library!” How wonderful. It would be such a thrill to hear someone say this. As much as when I see someone reading a paper book on the train … we are from a different age. But still, BLING!
I would love crazy necklaces. Unfortunately my neck eczema doesn’t permit. So I make do with fun earrings!
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A paper book, libraries and fun earrings — those are all wonderful things!
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I love ALL your happy songs. Because we play Younger Child’s playlist in the car, Golden has become a happy favourite.
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Yes, Golden! That “K-Pops” up during my exercise class occasionally. Great song!
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Not one that can really be sung with … it really is too high 🤣
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