Alvin Wong: the real-life statistical composite happy man

Much of last Monday’s College session was devoted to reflective learning. I still don’t know exactly what reflective learning is. But I know it’s contemplative and introspective. Yesterday I returned home after a week in Victoria. Coming home always causes me to reflect on my life: what’s okay, what I should improve, how and when. And so on. A key aim of mine’s happiness [1]. I think I know when I’m happy. But I definitely know when I’m unhappy. Happiness is a worthy aim. It must be. Because it’s the topic of much research. Each Monday morning I send a ‘happy week’ email to Sweetheart Vivienne and our darling ones. Responding to last Monday’s, SanFran daughter sent me a link to this NYT article titled ‘Discovered: The Happiest Man in America’ [2]. It describes a statistical composite for the happiest person in America: tall, Asian-American, observant Jew, at least 65, married with children, lives in Hawaii, runs own business, household income over US$120,000 a year. And, lo and behold, the NYT located a man meeting all these criteria: Alvin Wong (pictured). Is Alvin a happy chap? He said he’s very happy. I hope that’s so. For his sake. And for the researchers’ sake, too. Me? I already know I’ll be relatively unhappy until next Monday morning – when I’ll be meeting Sweetheart Vivienne at Launceston Airport. Ho hum.

P.S. H/t SanFran daughter. You knew I’d love this NYT article. And you were right.

farmdoc's blog post number 235

Inexorable. I couldn’t get that word out of my mind as I drafted this post last Sunday while flying from Melbourne to Launceston after two weeks away from home. It was annual leave – time off work. (Well, almost.) Sweetheart Vivienne frequently says planning and anticipating something is often better than the something itself. I did look forward to this fortnight. But I enjoyed it more. Spending precious time with my darling ones is priceless. Two weeks sounds a long time. I fitted heaps in to it, but the days passed inexorably. And before I knew it, I was flying home, and what to me is my real life – work, farming, baking, emailing, and doing whatever it is that I do. I know from experience it takes a week or so for me to acclimatise to my real life. So it’s still happening. For the immediate future, Mole Creek is where I want to live, health permitting. It’s where I’m content. It’s where I’m me. But time moves inexorably on, and I know that one day, living somewhere else will be better for me. I’m okay with that. But I’m not wishing any of my Mole Creek time away. Because I know that a moment wished away is a moment lost, never to be recovered. And I want as few of those as possible.

farmdoc's blog post number 71

It happened so quickly. Late on Friday afternoon – three days ago – our darling youngest daughter, having completed her 2-year writing fellowship in California, decided that instead of flying from San Francisco to Melbourne via Sydney, she’d like to divert at Sydney and fly direct to Launceston to spend a few days in Mole Creek with Sweetheart Vivienne and me. I made the internet booking on Virgin Blue in a flash – as I invariably do the moment any of our darlings expresses a wish to come here. And yesterday mid-morning – less than two days later – she is here with us, lying on the couch in the guest cottage in front of the woodheater, reading and resting and, I expect, listening to the silence. Such is the miracle of modern life – even taking account of carbon emissions from plane flights because there are so many trees on our 78.16 Mole Creek hectares that 12 members of our extended family are without doubt net carbon fixers. Until yesterday 5¾ months had passed since we had seen our youngest darling. Leaning on the parapet along Launceston airport’s outdoor concourse, and glimpsing that tiny figure in a light blue jacket, head in hood, at the plane’s door smiling and waving to us, I shed a quiet tear. I couldn’t stop it. It happened so quickly.