Get lucky

Sometimes, when things get a little hectic, it's nice to have a reliable, easy source of frictionless happiness at hand. And these days are, arguably, hectic. With snowstorms dissolving child-care networks up and down the coast, with many application deadlines fixed around March 1, and with a stomach virus making the rounds in Baltimore, it sometimes feels as though things are barely hanging together. You may have your own ways of dealing with such stress. But for my part, I simply try to call up an image of the guitarist to Pharrell Williams' left in the video to Daft Punk's wildly popular 'Get Lucky.'

You probably know the song, even if you don't think you do. It's the one that took sports arenas by storm last fall, sustaining fans during intermissions with its infectious and buoyant beat. And while not everyone is a fan, many are: indeed, Daft Punk (two Frenchmen, who have always worn helmets when in public or onscreen) rode the popularity of the song to a raft of Grammy nominations. I can see why: just last night, as L., Cleo and I took in the first half of the final home game of the Hopkins women's basketball season, the song came on during a time out, and I broke into a smile just as wide as the one that the guitarist maintains for most of the video.

So a song, or even an image of a song, can sustain. But then again, I'm lucky enough that I don't even need to rely, at all times, on such a prop. After the melody dissipated, and the referee's whistles called the teams back to the court, Cleo was still wriggling, working her way through the natural hole in my crossed legs that she called a portal to the world of mummy tombs. A minute later, she was giving me and L. quick fictive hairdos, as if we were Cinderella's stepsisters preparing for the ball - and just two minutes after that, she peered meaningfully at the hardwood, and brought forth a vigorous 'Go Hop!' that just barely rose above the echo of the dribbled ball and the squeak of sneakers.

In other words: yeah, it's nice to maintain a fixed image of happiness to which one can return, as if to a well. But it's also a wonderful thing to have a little 4-year-old who bubbles over, at most moments, with a natural ebullience that, while it may not win any Grammies, somehow needs no enhancement through production or stage lighting.