Happiness lies within the self. And, if the self declines into senility, that doesn’t mean it’s less happy.
My junior school was located next to an institution for the care and education of Downs’ syndrome children and, once or twice a year, our teachers would take us to visit them. We were strangers to them and they were strangers to us, even if we may have caught a glimpse of each other through the windows of our respective institutions. Yes, we were both at institutions. I took the image from Google Streetview, and it is reassuring that, over 50 years on, that institution is still working for those in need.
We would play with these boys and girls, at building blocks or other sedentary activities. I don’t recall them playing at football or anything that had a set of rules, because that was perhaps beyond their ability. I don’t know, I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but I know we didn’t play at football. The visits didn’t last long, but long enough to provoke thought. In the late 60s, we’d learned about the dangers of Thalidomide (known in Europe as Contagen), and I had myself seen children born with stumps of arms and twisted spines, owing to their mothers having not been adequately warned of the dangers of these drugs. It was a time when many of us learned to care.
I later befriended someone who worked as a nurse and whose knowledge of such conditions was far deeper than my own. I expressed sympathy to him when we once saw a Downs’ syndrome child and he cautioned me: “They are not sad, Graham. They live a life of happiness, because they don’t know better. Yes, their condition is pitiful, but they themselves want no pity.”
Take a look at this documentary from The New Yorker magazine. It features a Spanish-speaking lady whose dementia is advanced. In it, she poses the question. And she answers it.
“¿Para ser más feliz?”
How to be happier? Her response:
“Milky coffee with sugar.”
I agree. One day, it may be me. It may be you. Prepare yourself for happiness. And, whilst you do, care now for those who are happy.
