How to Be Happy EVERYDAY by J. P. Godsey

Author:J. P. Godsey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-04-02T16:00:00+00:00

INTRODUCTION

By J.P. “Gus” Godsey Selected “The Happiest Man In America” by USA Weekend magazine

Well, by now you have heard the Mr. Happy story. I will share a bit about my background. This is the bottom line.

I am sure there are happier people out there; I just don’t know many. I know that I have been blessed. Somehow, I have been able to “compartmentalize” things in my head. I put the bad things aside, or the things I cannot control, and do not spend any time worrying about them. Make a choice, first thing — on what kind of day this will be, count your blessings every day, control the “Controllables,” give more than you get, stay away from negative people and gossip, and smile...It really is not much deeper than that. Trust me...don’t try to make it any harder than that. There has been much said and a great deal of research done trying to make this more difficult. I guess that’s cool, but it ain’t me.

I’m second-generation Swedish on Mama’s side. Mom’s name is Doris Mathilda Sandquist. My grandfather, and then later my grandmother, came over on a boat through Boston. They had 14 kids. Mom was the fifth from the last. They lived in a two bedroom house, two stories high, on 5 Abbot Street in Concord, New Hampshire. Think about that for a minute.

My dad’s (Paul James Godsey) family was all from Indiana. They were a “Heinz-57 variety” family, a lot of everything, including a chunk of American Indian. We have always been proud of being part “American Indian.”

My folks married in 1945. We lived in Indiana where my dad coached. They had my sis, Sue, in 1955, P.J. in 1956, and me in 1957. Just think, married for 10 years, no kids, and then “Bam-Bam-Bam.” That’s a wake-up call.

My dad was not very original. He called my brother P.J. (Paul James) and me J.P. (James Paul). He envisioned us as a pitcher-catcher tandem. I got my nickname “Gus” when I was 2 years old from my Uncle Dick. He told my dad there was no way he would pump his ego by calling both of us after him, so he started calling me Gus. It stuck. Actually more people call me Gus than J.P.

My parents split in 1961. We moved to Lancaster, Pa., and lived with my Aunt Middy and Uncle George who had 11 kids of their own. We moved two years later to Rockland and Dauphin Street about 15 minutes away. I was 4 or 5. This was borderline ghetto. We were the only white kids in the neighborhood except for two buddies of mine who were Russian.

We spent four or five summers in Indiana with Dad. Those were always very emotional comings and goings. Dad would come to Pennsylvania to pick us up in June and bring us back in August. I remember not wanting to go, heck, I was probably only 4. I ran and hid in an upstairs closet, crying. Dad had to come pick me up and put me in the back of the car, a convertible.

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