This crisis has taken a toll on our joy of anticipation. All the uncertainty makes it hard to look forward to good times, and one of the best things about good times is looking forward to them.
My older son Randy could not contain his excitement as a kid when he learned about big upcoming events. By the time he got to them, he had worked himself into a nauseous frenzy.
Our young granddaughter Allie is elated when she gets word of a trip, visits from kinfolks or even her youth league ballgames.
She doesn’t become so ecstatic that it makes her sick like Randy got awaiting special occasions, but she creates stress for everybody else with relentless questions.
If she learns we’re going to the beach, she interrogates us about the condo, the pools, number of bedrooms, how long we’re staying, what time we’ll get there, who is in which room, and on and on.
Everybody else withholds information from her as long as they can about vacations, parties and other things she likes, but I enjoy telling her and relishing her enthusiasm.
Winnie the Pooh was just a book that I read my kids before Walt Disney turned it into a flood of cartoons and movies. It was filled with nuggets of wisdom. One was about the pleasure of looking forward to things.
“Well, said Pooh, “what I like best,” and then he had to stop and think. Because although eating honey was a very good thing to do, there was a moment just before you began to eat it which was better than when you were, but he didn’t know what it was called.”
What it was called, of course, was anticipation. The pandemic has been depriving us of that satisfaction.
I thought of that Winnie the Pooh quote the other day when it popped up on my iPhone calendar that Northwestern was supposed to have a baseball game that night.
Allie loves springtime and never missed a Northwestern softball or baseball game. She called me repeatedly in the days before every game about when I would pick her up, the team we were playing and where we were eating.
On Mondays, she got off the school bus at my office for me to take her to gymnastics classes. She would call the day before to remind me and ask if we could bat softballs before gymnastics.
She has always taken great joy in anticipating things even if she did get on folks’ nerves once in a while with her gusto for so many events and activities she enjoyed.
I miss those calls now about when the LSU game would be on TV or if we could go watch the Northwestern band practice or when we were going to Branson or the beach again.
When Randy was in grade school, I told him we had tickets to the first game the Saints would play in New Orleans. By the time we headed for the game, he was slumped in the back seat nauseated.
There were 80,000 people at old Tulane Stadium, and the stands shook the whole game. Randy got a hot dog but couldn’t eat it. He had experienced the joy of looking forward to the game much more than he did the game itself.
I can identify with Randy and Allie. We didn’t travel much when I was growing up, but our parents always took us to the State Fair in Shreveport. Waiting for it was exhilarating.
One year when I was a teenager, my dad said just he and I were going. At the fairgrounds, he pointed to a tent with paintings of ladies in swimsuits and the words “Facts of Life.” He said we were going there after we got a corndog for lunch. My excitement soared.
In the tent were rows of tables with jars and index cards that described their contents. My dad decided not to let me see them. We left and never saw a scantily clad lady. I didn’t learn the facts of life like my dad had hoped, but I took pleasure in anticipating it.
Winnie the Pooh was right that anticipating things can be even better than doing them. I hope we can start looking forward again soon to things we have always enjoyed.
REPRINTED FROM THE NATCHITOCHES TIMES