Positive Thinking Has All the Power of a Magic Potion

It’s about 7:15 a.m.

The baby, chubby arms stretched in front of her, chubby legs walk-running in spurts, is laughing at her own cleverness.

The 5-year-old, hair freshly combed, affixed with an outrageously girlish bow, has her legs extended toward me in an effort to save time. I can slide on her socks much quicker than she.

We are, the three of us, in the bathroom. I have yet to get dressed; there is not much time. The arrival of the school bus looms.

“Mommy, do you want to have fun?” the schoolgirl asks.

Yeah, sure, honey, that’s what I want. Now put on your shoes.

“No,” she says. “I mean, like me. Fun! Do you want to be like me? Do you want to be my same size?”

I tell her that while the thought intrigues, I couldn’t be a mommy if I were her size, and besides, mommies have fun too. Now we’re going to be late.

“No, mommies have to go to work and they come home real late,” my daughter says, making a face.

“Here, drink this,” she says, brightening quite a bit.

It is a magic potion, invisible, I’ve figured out. It’s supposed to transport me back a few blue moons, to when I was 5 years old.

So what the heck, I drink. I make all gone. I smack my lips, tell her how good it tastes.

And then something else happens. Bong . I think it’s the potion at work. Forget about my size; that hasn’t changed and that doesn’t count.

But, all of a sudden, I’m having fun. The baby keeps chortling. The schoolgirl too is laughing out loud.

Which is how these things work, for me at least, in a sometimes dreary grown-up world. Dr. Seuss had it right: quigily pigily gobildy goop! Or something to that effect. Say it with feeling and watch the magic go to work.

What I’m saying is that fun can come in snatches, out of nowhere, throwing you off guard.

It makes me step back and catch a glimpse of myself and realize that my mother (Oh, no! Anyone but her!) could be right. No, I wouldn’t want to be frozen with that dour look on my face.

I liken these little epiphanies to those near-death experiences that we’ve all heard about. Except these revelations are in the here and now.

“Loosen up!” an inner voice commands. “It can’t possibly be that bad. What better time to enjoy life than now?”

Which brings us back to my mother--and probably yours too--and all those expressions she used that I once thought were trite beyond groans. A sampler here:

It will all work out for the best.

We learn from our mistakes.

Tomorrow’s another day.

Be thankful for what you have.

There has to be a reason why such pith has survived all these years. My guess is because of the subversive power that rests in the words. They can overthrow gloom.

Even as we dismiss such homey wisdom out of hand--”Oh, Mother, get real”--a part of us clings to the hope of a simple truth.

It is real, if we believe. This is hope and faith, a reason to get out of bed.

Ask a sandbox full of children about Santa Claus and you’ll see what I mean. Make sure to watch as the fireworks explode in their eyes.

Call it make-believe, optimism or the power of positive thoughts--whatever, as long as it works. Pretty soon you might be singing “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” and dancing along.

And the magic transforms in more subtle ways too.

An AIDS patient tells me that if anybody can outlive this killer disease, it will be she.

A child of the Vietnam War says she will find her American father--even though she knows only his first name--because he is in her blood.

A woman named Doris, 82 years old, calls to tell me of her children’s woes, then asks if I’d mind including them in my prayers.

“You don’t need to know the names,” Doris says, “because God knows.”

Nobody can tell any of these people that they are wrong. And I certainly don’t think that they are. They believe in a better world. They don’t put much stock in unfavorable odds.

That’s reason enough for hope right there.

Now, everybody together please, glasses in the air. Cheers! Throw that magic potion down the hatch.

It always tastes much better if you smile.