“Nothing
changes when you’re numb. So, as a kind of remedy, and possibly as a kind of
therapy, I started collecting good news. Not schmaltzy, feel-good news, but
stuff that reminded me, ‘Hey, there’s positive stuff going on! People are
solving problems and it’s making a difference!’ I began telling others about
what I’d found.”
Cheerful has a range of meanings in English. The OED, which dates the word’s earliest appearance
to the fifteenth century, gives four:
1. “Conducive to happiness,
contentment, or good spirits; cheering, comforting, uplifting; spec. (of colours, surroundings, etc.)
bright and pleasant.”
2. “Full of or expressing
good spirits; light-hearted, happy, merry, glad. In later use frequently: spec. jovial or lively in appearance or
behaviour.”
3. “Of an event, period of
time, etc.: characterized by happiness or good spirits.”
4. “Ready, willing;
ungrudging. Also: unapologetic, unabashed.”
At first, Byrne’s
usage seemed closest to the first, most familiar definition. Now I think the
fourth, with its spirit of can-do pragmatism, is closer. After all, Byrne and
his bandmates made the apocalypse sound cheerful in “Nothing but Flowers”: “This
was a Pizza Hut / Now it’s all covered with daisies.”
Cheerfulness
isn’t necessarily the opposite of dwelling in the slough of despond. As
Theodore Dalrymple reminds us: “I can inhabit gloom and live in joy.” Guy
Davenport often closed his letters with “Cheers!” and Boswell recounts the time Dr. Johnson reunited with an old acquaintance, Oliver Edwards, who told him: “You
are a philosopher, Dr. Johnson. I have tried too in my time to be a
philosopher; but, I don’t know how, cheerfulness was always breaking in.” The
title of Byrne’s magazine is the same as the headline on a column Theodore
Dalrymple published in the Spectator
in 2003: “Reasons to be cheerful.” In it, Dalrymple writes:
“So long as
the world is inexhaustibly interesting, we have reason to be cheerful.”
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