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Happy Life The JJ Way, Issue #52 - Heavenly Humans
July 01, 2020
Hi, and the warmest of welcomes to "Happy Life The JJ Way".
The world has recently been exposed to some horrific human behaviour. I’m sure I don’t need to list them here or remind you of some of the atrocities we have witnessed – the television stations have that covered.
The reason for this newsletter is to remind you that we humans are capable of heavenly behaviour as well as the hellish with which we are bombarded with alarming regularity. It is all too easy to forget we can be good.
The following story actually happened to me several years ago. It illustrates some wonderful aspects of humanity: optimism, loyalty, kindness and generosity among them.
The events have stayed with me all these years and I have kept the item in question as a memento of the basic goodness of which we humans are capable.
I don’t have the contact details of one of the heroines of the story, but if you happen to know her, please have her contact me. I’m sure she is unaware of the impact she had upon me and I would dearly love to inform her.
Maybe you could share with your contacts in the hope that we find her and lavish her with the praise and gratitude she deserves.
I hope this simple story stays with you as it has me and reminds you when necessary that heavenly humans are among us.
Heavenly HumansWhen I woke up the next morning I didn’t believe it!
As the events of the night before reluctantly assembled themselves in my seedy head like soldiers under order marching through tacky glue, I was mystified anew. Well, it’s one thing to experience “amazing” while under the influence, but another thing altogether to recollect it in the cold hard light of post-influence-day.
I had been celebrating a friend’s birthday on a soft summer evening with a barbecue on the banks of the Yarra. A group of about twenty, we’d had a wonderful few hours – the birthday boy full of surprises – glow necklaces, tinsel tiaras, a miscellany of delights - determined to provide us with an unforgettable event.
People started asking me if I was coming out with them after. There is only one correct answer to that question on a perfect summer party evening in Melbourne!
Soon we were piling into cars and cabs and heading off to wherever the direction-givers bid. After spilling out of said cars and cabs it became apparent our destination was a nightclub. Woohoo!! I love to dance! A fellow partygoer intimated that my friend and favourite dancing partner would also be at the nightclub. Oh happy anticipation!
As we queued at the door I silently marveled that a river-side barbecue had eventuated at the door of a nightclub. It was then that a dismal realization smacked me in the face and pulled the welcome mat out from under me.
I was wearing barbecue attire! The black short shorts and strapless top may have been almost acceptable; the acrid fragrance of barbecue smoke may even have passed undetected, but the black Havaiana thongs (flip flops) were never going to see me gracing my rightful place on the top tier of a wedding-cake-shaped podium! Even my top-of-the-range black Havi's with stylish metallic gold trim were never going to cut it in Nightclub Land.
“Oh no!” I groaned to my friend Kelly, “I’m wearing thongs – they’ll never let me in!”
“Don’t you have any other shoes in your bag?”
“Don’t worry, they’ll let you in.”
“No, they won’t.”
You have to hand it to Kelly. Not only was she a gold medal optimist, she was as loyal as the sky is blue. When I was turned away, she could have continued on her merry way, dancing the night away on the podium in my stead. But she chose to stick with the reject and to reassure me that she would find me a pair of shoes. Gotta love the girl’s attitude! There were no footwear outlets in the vicinity and even if there were, they would have been closed.
While I grappled with the looming logistics - practical and financial - of a lone, fifty minute cab ride home, Kelly surveyed the area like a quiz contestant expecting an answer to flash pink neon out of thin air at any second. Her eagle eye scoped a girl on the corner – her last dance danced, her last drink drunk, her face reflecting the pink neon of the sign on the adjacent kebab stand.
“This girl will lend you her shoes,” the rose-coloured voice of Kelly assured me, as she dragged me toward the subject. “No she won’t,” I scorned. Did Kelly know nothing?
“Excuse me please," before I could stop her, “but my friend wants to come dancing and they won’t let her in because she doesn’t have any shoes. Would you mind swapping your shoes for her thongs?”
“NO! NO! I’m sorry. I’m really sorry," I interjected to the shoe girl. “Don’t worry about it. I can’t possibly swap my thongs – my daughter walked Melbourne to find me these Havi’s so they mean a lot to me and I can’t let them go. Sorry to disturb you.”
“That’s okay, you can have my shoes anyway,” lilted the pink-faced cherub as she denuded her feet and awarded me the prize.
No podium was ever adorned by a more grateful ornament.
Sometimes life and people surprise you in the most enchanting manner and the most unlikely location.
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