Out of place alumni

You have to understand that I graduated from very small schools. My college bears a name that is almost unpronounceable to anyone who lives outside the state. But up there, to see a sweatshirt with my alma mater emblazoned across the front is a semi regular occurrence. Somebody or their mother knows somebody else who went there. Or so they think.

Everywhere else- it's got to be a microscopic fraction of a percentage point to see a similarly designed sweatshirt in this state. I mean sure, me and my great aunt and uncle went there and they live not too far away. But that sight is a long way from home.

On Monday, I was sitting in class, and I gazed across the room to see a student I'd not seen in previous weeks. And what was he wearing but a big college lettered sweatshirt with a familiar mash of syllables. I did a double take. My first thought- oh I haven't seen that design. Followed by- wait a second, you don't live there anymore. Turns out, new guy also shares my alma mater and graduated only a few months before I arrived on campus. We know similar people, we've walked the same halls, and the likelihood of 2 people in a 12 person class at a mega university sharing a minuscule alma mater 30 hours away is almost nothing.

And yet, Walt Disney's famous tea cup theme song plays sheepishly in the corner:

It's a small world after all.

Don't sleep on the train

A few nights ago, I got on the train to head home to see a man sleeping on the floor loomed over by two of the transportation security guards. The man was clearly in the aisle and making the crowded train more uncomfortable, but wasn't hurting anyone. Two men seated behind me kept talking about how the security team was probably really frustrated that this guy kept going back to sleep and that no one would listen to them. Their conversation morphed into how or what to do for people who only have warmth and relative security on public transportation. They made some jokes, but subtly acknowledged how complicated the problem was for homeless populations. As the train slowed to a stop, a man who was sitting next to them rose to exit and said,

"Ya, it's easy to crack jokes, but it's actually pretty sad when you think about it."

It's a complicated problem. More dire and complex than any one person falling asleep on the floor and being removed from the train. And two days later, it's still sad and I'm still thinking about it.

Small kindnesses

Today I got onto the train to the singing and chattering of a fellow passenger. She seemed to be talking to her reflection, no conversation topic off limits. Before the train took off, the conductor asked her if she was ok, to no response. She sang about Jesus and the directions for a bit until a family with 5 kids most of whom in strollers. The gentleman talking to the parents catalogued all of their ages as the woman singing to her reflection stopped singing to pass out Rice Krispie treats to the kids. Without faltering, without deliberation of what she had or what she saved. She saw some kids on the train, and gave them a treat. So simple, and so kind.

Resolution.

I don't typically make a lot of New Years resolutions, but here's one that's pertinent if you read this blog (by chance. I don't want to make you do anything that collides with your own new year promises). I'm going to make an effort to post at least weekly. Hell, I even set a weekly reminder on my phone. So here is the first. Week 1/52: ✅

Enough of the chipper stuff. If you are looking for some way to perk up your mood for the year and maybe alter some of that negative goop that keeps following you around, here's something I've tried for each school year (adaptable for your traditional calendar-minded folk): try a joy jar.

Sure it sounds silly. Here's the pitch. Every time there is an event, a moment, a thought, or conversation that brought you joy, write it down on a little slip of paper and put it in a little decorative jar. I have a yarn-wrapped Mason jar that I can't find a lid to. It doesn't have to be every moment (though some of you are naturally perky and ambitious), but maybe one thing. It might not happen every day, and there's no pressure if it doesn't. But at the end of the year, pour out your jar and read all the moments you've catalogued of your happiness. It's less time intensive than a journal, and honestly really rewarding at the end.

I tried this the last year of my master's program and found so much laughter in remembering the little things. Stuff like my niece saying something odd, or a conversation that made me laugh so hard I cried, or a teaching moment I was proud of.

Good luck with your first week of resolutions. Check one off the calendar.