M. Beisenherz: Sorry, I’m here privately
What makes you happy in times like these?
© Imago Images
When our columnist opens the newspaper, he is overcome by melancholy. But he knows a few emergency exits from the sadness.
By Micky Beisenherz
It can sometimes feel right to be wrong somewhere. When I was jogging through Munich these days (I was on an entertainment assembly in Germany), my running route repeatedly crossed the marathon course there. So it happened that I ran a total of around 300 meters in the crowd of marathoners and received supportive cheers from the people on the sidelines before I turned off again and ran away from the crowd ran along the Isar. As a public relations worker, I of course take note of every applause, even the cheering bycatch, of course. The rest of the way I was completely by myself and with the three very funny, friendly guys from Baywatch Berlin on my ear as a podcast.
What actually makes me happy in times like these? Or do we dig deeper: What are the moments of calm and contentment that occasionally stand out from these states?
A run like this without haste on the Isar is certainly one of them. It could also be a Sunday morning, in a bathrobe and with the newspaper. At least the parts of the newspaper that don’t push me headfirst into the news pile like a house-unclean dog. We always assumed that misfortunes were just waiting in line. But they crowd into the subway of our consciousness like impatient commuters. All at the same time. Tough, flowing together. An emulsion of misery.
What distracts me?
The one hour a week where my buddy Peter teaches me to play the guitar. My stumbling strumming, which sounds like music to my ears.
To discuss the daily madness and insanity with my wife. This treasure chest full of insider gags that we fill up with new things every day.
Sitting in a sturdy wooden armchair in the park not far from my house and dozing off while the Bundesliga conference is playing in my ear.
Visiting your parents, making fun of each other and looking at old photos.
Cuddling in the armchair with your not-so-small daughter anymore and maintaining rituals. “Dad, have you seen Frauke yet?”
Sitting outside my local bar, Dusko brings light beer and olives to the table.
If I’ve stopped with one book by Joachim Meyerhoff, I’ll start again with one that I’ve already read.
Be polite, be friendly and give tips
“Try, Try, Try” by the Smashing Pumpkins is playing on the radio. 2000 was a good year. MTV still played videos and the World Trade Center towers still rose into the sky. Before the end of innocence began in 2001.
“Try, Try, Try” and the thought: Why are people often so terrible in masses when they are often so pleasant individually? With the exception of the marathon, perhaps. It’s amazing that so many people come together on a Sunday to watch total strangers struggle to prove something to themselves. How they support and applaud her. As an individual part of a mutually positive structure.
Maybe that’s the key: we probably won’t save the world on a large scale, but on a small scale we can make it more beautiful every day.
Be polite, say please and thank you. Be friendly, say hello and goodbye. And give tips.
To all a nice weekend.