Somewhere in the unnecessarily complex internals of my beloved truck Valkyria, a chip or widget or circuit or something was misbehaving. Since my modern mechanical skills are roughly equal to my spare time – that is, essentially non-existent – I ended up driving the company car, with bells and whistle and lights and for all I know, artificial intelligence that will decide whether or not my tie goes with my vest, and activate a warning light if I choose poorly.
One thing that I love about that comfortable if complicated vehicle is the sound system. By embracing the modern tech I wholly distrust, I figured out how to connect a music player to the stereo, thus helping me worry a bit less about robotic arms coming out of the dashboard and straightening my shirt collar, or combing my hair.
I had the volume up a little more than I should have the other day when the player offered a song I hadn’t heard in a while. I ain’t ashamed to admit I turned it up a little more, and tossing all dignity out the window, I sang right along with Willie and Waylon.
It was one of those simple, sometimes silly little things that make life worthwhile.
Pastor Charles reminded me of another of those simple things Sunday, as he talked about the taste of a “square Nab” with peanut butter. I will fight you for a Nekot, under the right circumstances. There’s a simple near-perfection in six sandwich crackers and a glass bottled-drink so cold that ice grips the outside. I can’t imagine how many Nabs, Nekots and the like have been consumed over the years, the package sliced open with a Barlow knife on the tailgate of a truck, under a tobacco shed, leaning on the counter or a country store or on a brief break from honest work that is mind-numbing, but feeds the family.
The simple things are what really matter in life, when you get right down to it.
Simply being nice to a stranger is one of the simple things whose effects we may never see. Holding a door for someone, or simply saying please and thank you, can make a difference in what might otherwise be a miserable day for someone else. Social media aside, it’s even better when nobody but you and the recipient know you did a good deed.
There is a simple beauty in watching a newborn animal of any kind gain its legs, wobble up and stand beside its exhausted mother, then earnestly seek the warm sustenance she produced for just that occasion. The same goes even moreso for humans – there is nothing more beautiful than a new mother and her baby. God was really smart when He made Moms.
We have assiduously tried to protect our rabbit population at Valhallasboro, since some of the rescue bunnies were released at the front pasture. Almost every evening, at sundown, if I happen to be on the lane, I get to see them engaged in all the things rabbits do, from dancing and fighting to scavenging the leftover deer corn. While they have diplomatic immunity at our place, I still love the simple pleasure of hearing the joyous ring of beagles on a crisp morning as they strike trail and their songs ring out as Ol’ Cottontail tries (and usually succeeds) to beat the odds.
Those same crisp mornings are the time for the simple joy of listening for the tentative steps of a buck as he tries to step in pine straw, not dry leaves, knowing full well that everything out there wants to have him over for dinner, but not as a guest. There’s even a simple pleasure (frustrating as it can be) of hearing that buck blow in alarm and bound away when it turns out he was smarter than you were stealthy.
Have you ever heard the bellow of a coonhound deep in a Carolina swamp or a deep forest, in the middle of the night, months after the snakes have gone to rest for the winter? There’s a simple joy there that cannot be adequately described, like the beauty of a covey rising when you didn’t know there were any quail left, or the sunset dappling pink-purple on the breast of a dove flying roughly 500 miles per hour on a September evening.
There is simple pleasure in a canepole and worms dug from your own backyard, and the squeal of a little kid catching a bream that might not measure five inches across, but will be bigger than the grandest marlin in their memory because you took the time to take said child fishing.
There is simple peace in the snores of a faithful old dog, the nuzzling kiss of a good horse, the crow of a rooster, the philosophical gabbling of geese, the contented bleats of a goat, the purr of a somnolent lapful of cats on a cold night, and the chatter of an angry squirrel.
There is an indescribably simple pleasure in hot, homemade biscuits, fried chicken, pies that never saw a grocer’s freezer, cold tea on a miserably hot day, apples and pears from a forgotten tree, the first and last watermelons of the year, cut with a pocketknife and heavily salted, juice dripping down your chin and running your T-shirt – especially when all those things are enjoyed with friends.
There is a simple, innocent pleasure in a pretty girl in a pretty dress when her spirit and the sunlight hit just right, especially when she has no idea how many hearts she could break as she creates a picture no artist could ever capture, nor any writer adequately describe.
There is beautiful simplicity in a child’s faith in God, and no professional producer could ever direct a song as moving or resonant as a child singing Jesus Love Me.
There is a precious simplicity in new pocketknives for Christmas, old trucks, riding a bicycle in a small town, eggs produced by a chicken you know personally, a can flying when hit by a .22 bullet fired from a single-shot rifle, comfortable if disreputable boots, a sharply ironed dress shirt, a new hat, rusty tractors, tinny pianos, and twangy guitars.
There’s perfectly simple pleasure in the sparks of a warm fire on a cool night when the skies are blue-black and the stars icy-sharp and the conversation wanders from meaningful to mirthful.
There are simple pleasures all around us. We just have to tune out those who thrive on discord and profit off misery and set aside the things that complicate life in the name of making things easier.
I have said it before, and likely will say it again – the world would be a much better place if we all took a little more time to focus on the simple things.
