Joyful Lunch

By Andy Meyer

4/9/2021

Wow, what a lunch.  Talk about fulfilling! I had it two days ago, and I’m still full. 

Funny thing is, I didn’t eat more than usual. It must have been the people I saw during my lunch break. Yeah. I’m pretty sure that’s what filled me up. They filled me up with joy.  It’s amazing how people can do that - fill you with joy.

Though I had the usual food, I did have three special treats. The first treat I had was my first COVID19 vaccination. For a year now the thought of getting and spreading COVID19 has haunted me. A couple dear friends are on oxygen and one pointed out quite matter-of-factly, “If I get COVID, I’m dead.”  So getting vaccinated at Walmart was joyful relief.  

But I mentioned people. Walmart’s staff gave me joy too. The pharmacy assistant was all-business as she checked me in. Nice enough, but as serious as someone who had checked in over a hundred and forty people the day before - which she had.  Hoping to get her to smile, I asked, “If I don’t cry, will I get a sticker on my forehead?”

She didn’t smile.

But without missing a beat, she deadpanned, “Only if I can put it on your forehead myself.”  BINGO!  Maine humor at its dry best!  I had tried to get HER to smile and she ended up making ME laugh out loud. Joy.  

Without waiting for my shot, she put the sticker smack dab in the middle of my forehead. (And yes, she smiled.) I was the only 58-year-old man walking around Walmart with a sticker on his forehead - walking around joyfully. 

As I waited for the pharmacist to give me the vaccine, I watched him deftly answer calls, fulfill prescriptions, and help customers at the counter at super high speed. When he finally got to me, we zipped through the perfunctory questions, he gave me my shot, and as I thanked him, I pointed to my forehead and remarked, “Check it out. I’ve already got the sticker!”

He gasped, staggered back, shook his head in disbelief, and stared. Noticing my sticker for the first time, he asked, “Was that thing on there the whole time?” When I said that it had been, he laughed out loud. “Oh my gosh! That’s a riot!  And I didn’t even notice it!” More joy.

Before I left the store, I texted our neighbor Pat a photo of me with my stickered noggin in the foreground and the Walmart pharmacy in the background. She’d gotten her vaccine earlier that morning and had texted me, “One down.”  In my reply I added, “Make that two.” Joy.

I wore the sticker the rest of the day, right through four video calls at work and a tutoring video call that evening. And I made sure everyone saw it. Folks loved it. More joy.

I learned of my second special lunchtime treat as I was driving home. I got a text from another neighbor. “Are you going for your usual lunchtime neighborhood walk today? I’ve got a 7-year-old who wants to join you.” 

I replied, “I’ll be at your driveway in 10 minutes. I’m psyched to have company!” 

Liz replied, “Thanks :-) She is so excited.” More joy.

I met Julia at the end of her driveway. With remote elementary school classes, she’d been cooped up at home all day and was ready to talk. So while we walked, I ate my lunch and Julia chatted away. It was a gleeful, stream-of-consciousness chatter. We were both having a grand time. Joy.

We walked the neighborhood, then we walked our property line. It’s my daily routine. We said “hi” to the honeybees and imagined them deep in the hive eating honey to stay warm. We went through the woods down to the stream and wondered what the fish were doing. With 11 minutes until my 1 o’clock video call, we rounded the last property pin and headed back towards the house to check the chicken coop for eggs on the way. We were right on schedule. 

That’s when I heard the riding mower driving down the next street over.  I grinned like the Cheshire Cat. I knew that sound. I knew what it was, who it was, and where it was going. It filled me with joy.

It was my new friend Sam - the third special treat added to my lunchtime routine. 

He was on his way to our house to return a wrench he’d borrowed.  Sam is a resident at our neighborhood's new group home for men with mental disabilities. He and I are fast becoming good friends. He’s a backyard mechanic who is starting a yard work and repair business. He comes by to give me business cards, show me his riding mowers, and borrow tools. The guy’s a real entrepreneur. He made enough money fixing up and reselling one mower that he bought another with the profits.  “It’s a Cub Cadet with cruise control, a PTO, a three-blade deck, and a hydrostatic transmission,” Sam tells me. His excitement is contagious. So is his joy.

I thank Sam and quickly walk Julia home. “I have 2 minutes to get on the phone,” I explain.

“Can you be one minute late?” Julia asks. 

“No. That wouldn’t be respectful to my coworkers,” I explain. 

“Can you be one minute early?” she inquires, always curious.

“Yes, but then I’d miss a minute with you” I point out. 

At this point I’d had more joy during one lunch break than some folks have in a year, but I didn’t want to miss even one minute of it. After all, there’s no such thing as too much joy. 

I made it to my video call at 1 pm sharp. The whole team was on time. In the pre-meeting banter, we recapped our days. “Wow. What a lunch,” I said. “Talk about fulfilling!” 

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If this essay gave you some joy, please give it a like to let me know.  If you think it would give joy to someone else, please share it. After all, there’s no such thing as too much joy.