There was a book that came out in 1990 called “14,000 things to be happy about.” I still have it. It was like a little Bible of interesting words and phrases, all chosen to evoke happiness. I bought it because I like words, combinations of words, and the sounds of words. I like the dictionary, too.
The author has a website; you can find it easily through the magic of the internet.
One of my favorite word combinations is “Pleasant Street.” The garden I share with my Uncle Bob is on Pleasant Street and quite a few wonderful people live or have lived on that same street. If I have a choice between Pleasant and Plummer Streets, I usually choose Pleasant, although Margaret (our 92-year-old Red Sox fan and former Sunday paper customer) lives on Plummer. Usually, I take Pleasant Street on my way to the library and Plummer Street on my way home and I wave to Margaret if she’s on the porch.
Last summer, I found a Pleasant Street sign at a flea market; I bought it and put it in the garden last weekend. I didn’t tell Uncle Bob and I assume he will make some smart-aleck comment to me about it soon enough.
Yesterday, I parked on a Pleasant Street in another town.
Pleasant Street is everywhere; sometimes it’s a state of mind. Until I can make my way home to Pleasant Street, I am going to rest at the one in my mind today.
You rest too.