The Sun Is Shining When It's Dismal

Went for a walk during my lunch break today, and there was this enormous mallard's head sticking out of frozen Lake Mendota behind Memorial Union about 60 feet out from the shore. This was as close as I dared get, and all I had in my bag was a cheap little camera, so it's not a very good picture, but you get the idea of what life is like out here at this time of year. Well, sort of. Actually, it isn't even this good. I doctored up the picture some already, adding a nuance of color, a suggestion of sunshine. There was neither, not an iota. This was one of those days that might serve to define "glum."

But for at least one duo, it will probably go down in their personal history as a bright and special day. Before coming upon the Mallard Head, aka Drowning Duck, I walked along the lakeshore path, seemingly the only person who thought the day befitting an outdoors stroll. Except for the couple up ahead, that is, and the increasingly loud and semi-hysterical laughter hiccoughing in escalating bursts from the woman of the pair. It was borderline annoying, to be there on this still and somber day with some maniacal racket jackhammering down the tree-lined path like a chainsaw. But as I got closer, it began to sound more like sobbing, out of control sobbing. My step quickened; my concern altered. By the time I was up to the couple, I was on full alert and ready to intervene.

And then I saw the ring box. He was holding out a wine colored ring box toward her, and she, her hand discreetly covering her open mouth, was careening wildly between sobs and giggles, guffaws and teary gasps. I recognized the condition immediately, since I am among the world's best at it: Emotional overload. Laughter, tears...at this point in emotional cognizance, there is no difference. I quickened my step again, apologetically, sorry to have blundered into what had been meant to be a personal moment, not a Personal Moment With Anxious Overseer.

Twenty paces on, I paused, though, remembering the camera in my bag. Slowly, I turned back. "You guys want a picture of this?" I called. They nodded, big grins whiter than the snow along the shoreline. They were startlingly young, younger than either of my own kids, I suspect, utterly fresh-faced and almost certainly more innocent. On her coat was pinned a button, I think you can see it in the photo, offering a hug to the world. I clicked twice and gave them my business card since they were too young to have one of their own. "Send me your email, and I'll send you the pictures," I promised. "Congratulations."

Glum. Ho hum. A day is only as bleak as you let it be, and so I have doctored up the Drowning Duck for you. Congratulations to everyone who triumphed today, including my friend Felicia who got a good treatment plan from a new doctor instead of the full hysterectomy that the first doc had recommended.