I am not what you call a sunny person.

 I'm not misanthropic, but I'm just not one of those people who greets every new day like Julie Andrews singing "the hills are alive with the sound of music" and never will be.

Don't get me wrong; I like to think of myself as a nice guy. But, really, there is just too much in the world to be an eternal optimist; sure, Shirley Temple could pull it off, but that was in the movies and that was 70 years ago.

Which is why a certain day recently came as a total surprise.

I have a friend in a distant state who was hospitalized, and there was a period of a few nerve-wracking days when I didn't hear anything from her. I tried not to let my imagination run wild, but I lost sleep and couldn't focus on work and just, in general, tried to keep myself distracted, even, God help me, going so far as to follow the whole sad, shabby circus surrounding the late celebrity Anna Nicole Smith. Sometimes, there is something to be said for putting one's brain on hold.

It's funny how one incident can serve as a linchpin for an avalanche of other things that, by themselves, have a certain amount of impact but, suddenly, collectively give one the feeling of being overwhelmed. My friend in the hospital. The ever-depressing news from Iraq. Chipping the ice in front of the house. Bills which, no matter how many you write, never seem to stop coming. Unexplained bouts of insomnia. And the ever-present, back-of-the-mind feeling that I'm not getting any younger.

Whine, whine, whine ... I know what you're thinking. And you would be right. But still ...

And then came that morning.

I woke up and checked my e-mail; something I normally don't make myself a slave to, but I was anxious for any word from my friend. Sure enough, she responded. She was home from the hospital, and things were, while not perfect, optimistic. She said she would call me that night.

It was as if everything had changed. And I began to notice positives instead of negatives: the sun was shining; the puppy who sleeps on my bed was cuter than ever; there was even a news profile on the radio about Chicago, my favorite American city. Everything seemed so ... right.

Corny? Yes. Saccharine? I would be the first to admit it. To top it off, I was hearing Celine Dion lyrics in my head: "A new day has come..." You may begin the collective eye-rolling.

But it was a novel feeling, and one I wanted to hang on to, if just for a little while. Perpetually happy people alarm me, quite frankly, but let's just say I can see the appeal of what they're into. It's nice.

The cynic in me says it will never last. But you never know.

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Stephen Kopfinger is a Sunday News staff writer. Contact him at skopfinger@lnpnews.com or at 291-8799. blog comments powered by Disqus