Pleasures

It’s a great day to be an old dog sleeping in the sun.

I know about axial tilt and the change of seasons, about how the sun gets a little closer to the northern hemisphere and all that sciency stuff, but it never stops feeling magical on the first winter’s day when the sun feels like it’s bringing some heat to the party.

Three decades ago, I wrote an essay titled “In Praise of Small Pleasures.” I could probably get away with just republishing it - I barely remember it, so I doubt if any of my readers do. I still believe in the concept. In this life, there are a few big moments. Marriages, births, that sort of thing. I remember our son coming home safe and sound from the Persian Gulf, our daughter having a triumph on the stage at her college – a memory that still makes smile - our other daughter finishing her master’s degree and becoming a therapist. Now that I’m letting my memory run wild, I’m finding more big pleasures to remember, like the day my first book was published, when we climbed out of debt for the first time in four decades, and many others. Still, most of the pleasures in life are small ones, and it’s important to cherish those as well. I’m almost always alone in my quirky little office on the edge of the slough, but today my wife took advantage of the sun’s warmth to stroll down to say hello, and we took a short break to inspect the minnow traps out on the slough. The little dog scampered across the ice and didn’t fall into the hole. When we climbed the bank, a barn cat wandered up to say hello to her while casting a suspicious eye my way. We’ve been taking strolls together since 1973, and it’s still a pleasure. Yesterday was Sunday dinner. It was a full table with most of the usual crew, along with a boyfriend, a girlfriend, and Number One visiting from college. The day before, we’d driven to Moorhead where she and my wife ran some errands while I got the oil changed in her car. I’ve never been able to decide which I like better – one on one time or having the whole herd together around the dining room table. Both are pretty great, just different. Loved them as children, love watching them turn into adults.

This is such a hard world. As I type, my computer music is playing softly. The last three songs were Springsteen singing, “The Ghost of Tom Joad,” Jax singing, “You’re too Young to be Old,” and Guy Clark performing, “Hemingway’s Whiskey.” If I wanted a soundtrack to make me less emotional, I certainly chose poorly. I have noticed, though, that over the past few years it takes less and less to turn me into a puddle. I take comfort in an interview I saw with General Norman Schwarzkopf where he scoffed, “...a man without tears is a man without a heart.”

A hard, hard world. We can’t change that, certainly shouldn’t ignore it. But we can cherish the pleasures, both large and small, that come our way. Some days there’s just an old dog sleeping in the sun. Sometimes that’s enough.

Copyright 2026 Brent Olso

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