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Still in St. Michaels (love this place) and on this specific morning I was trotting along on the sidewalk, humming away. I have an array of melodies to choose from. It could be a hymn from my childhood (quite a story there), a favorite gospel, one of Darlene Zschech songs but inevitably only one sticks at a time and I sing the words in my head while humming the tune out loud. Well, not loud-loud but audibly.

Now, you know how you sometimes stop next to a car in traffic and you can’t hear a thing but the driver’s drumming a rhythm on his/her steering wheel? Or a lone walker is weaving his/her body in time with what only they can hear? And how strange they look? Well visualize this relic with silver (not grey) hair, weaving and bobbing and nodding, humming along. Weird is as weird does…

In and out of the shops I went, rocking my head in time with what could’ve been a funky beat. “And a one and a two and a one two three” or “one…two…three/four….” You get the picture?

It was more than this one sales lady could stand. “You sound so happy,” she said.

I assured her that I was probably the happiest person she’d ever meet as I have that elusive something called “the peace that passes all understanding.”

“You should teach classes on how to be happy,” she told me.

And here lies my problem. How do you teach people to be happy? I have no idea but I can, from those many years of learning and failing and learning and failing and falling down and getting up and then doing it all over again until I finally saw the light and the wisdom that comes with aging set in, say this:

You and you alone are responsible for your personal happiness. No one else. And remember that happiness comes from within.

Look at what you have, not at what you don’t have or have lost.

Peace to you all.

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