Memory Lane Without the Bumps It’s a goofy song that hit the airwaves back in the summer of ’88 I think--Don’t Worry Be Happy. It was a tune filled with mostly a bunch of “dooo’s” at varying lengths and pitches. There was also some whistling during the chorus that topped the song off and put your soul at ease. My family was having a garage sale and Grandma and Grandpa’s house. It was early summer in rural Luther, Oklahoma. At that time there were only four of us kids. Yes, I said only four. The two youngest girls (Nicole and Erica) were still toddlers and running around with only bottoms on, barefoot and happy. It was such a treat back then to be hanging out at Grandma and Grandpa’s. It was more fun than eating out on Friday nights, and almost as exciting as swimming in the public pool. My brother and I had setup a lemonade stand. Business was slow though and most of the lemonade was sitting in my stomach. As it goes with most lemonade businesses, our first profits came from Mom and Dad. They would sip on the lemonade and say it was the best lemonade they had ever tasted. Then, I believed them. Now I know that’s what every good parent has to say. Later that afternoon, Grandpa checked our report cards. We would get fifty cents for every “A.” I already knew how much money that would mean for me before I handed him the report card, but hearing his exclamations of what a smart girl I was made me grin inside. Listening to the clink-clink as he would drop those quarters in my hand was so rewarding. I was momentarily rich. More money to add to the lemonade bucket. I’m pretty sure it was an old Folger’s coffee can. Grandma and Grandpa loved their Folger’s… Sometime throughout that perfect summer day, I don’t remember when, the little radio we had set up outside started singing out, “Don’t worry be happy.” The song was catchy and bouncy. The whole family was whistling and singing to it. Even after the next song came on we were still singing that tune. It was fun to imitate the Jamaican accent and listen to my dad whistle the song in perfect tune. My dad is still the best whistler I know… I don’t remember exactly how the day ended and I think it’s better that way. It makes the memory seem surreal. Who would want an end to a perfect day like that? That beautiful summer afternoon, there were no worries and we were all happy. I was happy. I want a day like that again…