A Pretty Good Thing

When you look around and realize how good you've got it. This one is for book lovers and people lovers.

You are reading Shy Guy Meets the Buddha: Reflections on Work, Love, and Nature, by Don Boivin. Here, I share my imperfect and sometimes heart-rending path to peace. 💚

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“I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, ‘If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.’” —Kurt Vonnegut, A Man Without a Country

Jennifer face-painting during “Open Streets” Hyannis, Massachusetts*

6/21/2026—It’s one o’clock on a Sunday afternoon. It’s the first day of summer and the slider is open a few inches to let a gentle breeze pass through the living room. My wife, Jennifer, is lying on the couch wrapped in a light blanket, reading The Jellyfish Problem, a debut novel by Tessa Yang about a giant jellyfish terrorizing the inhabitants of a small island off the coast of Maine. I’m in my old cat-scratched and torn leather recliner reading Mr. Vertigo. So many of Paul Auster’s novels are about father/son relationships, and there is a bit of that here, even if the “son” is an orphan and the “father” is a profit-minded, exploitative despot who has essentially kidnapped the boy.

This morning, after breakfast at the local diner (Jennifer’s treat), the two of us enjoyed the annual Father’s Day car show in downtown Hyannis. That entailed a lot of walking and so, after a GYO lunch at home (“Get Your Own”) we decided to take a little rest. Later this afternoon we’re going for a walk around Hathaway’s Pond. It’s Father’s Day, after all, and I get to choose our destination, so of course I chose my favorite wooded trail.

It’s true that the life you get is seldom a close match to the one you dreamed of, but if you are persistent, and you learn, usually via the school of hard knocks, the kinds of things you simply will not tolerate or allow into your life, you might just end up looking around one day and thinking, Well, look at this; I’ve got a pretty good thing going here.

I’ve got a pretty good thing going here, and I’m determined not to take it for granted.

Look; there is my wife on the couch; she works so hard at her freelance creative arts business, planning group projects and workshops, creating last-minute prototypes late at night out of paper and leaves and paint and wax and recycled household items, and planning artistic themes to bring to her students (who range from school children to adults with disabilities to senior citizens); themes like “Take it Away with Monet” or “Art Around the World.” To relax, she reads books, books that I often pick up for her at the library because my schedule is more flexible than hers. She reads as much as I do. Her literary tastes differ a bit; she likes true crime, mystery, survival stories, and she’s more willing than I am to try an unknown author. I like literary fiction that focuses on relationships, existential angst, and the slow process of self-realization, and I can spend a lot of time researching what my next book will be.

Hyannis Public Library. The front-most section, pictured here, was reportedly built in 1750

But so few people actually read books at all! Of my seven siblings and still-living parents, there are none I’ve been able to talk books with over the years (one sister delved into the Gregory Maguire fantasies some years ago, and we talked about Wicked). My two best friends don’t read. I do have one second-tier friend who reads history and science, and every time I see him at a dinner party, I ask if he’s read any good books lately. For so long I’ve craved a friend who reads with passion, especially one who enjoys fiction and literature.

I built these shelves for a remodeling client some years ago. I wish this was my reading nook!

But my wife! My wife reads! I feel so lucky. I love it when we’re both engrossed in our books at the same time, like this afternoon. I don’t know why it’s so important to me. Well, I do know why, actually. A dedicated reader will have an open mind, a broader outlook; they will be more empathetic, more knowledgeable, a better and more interesting conversationalist. An earnest reader will be less likely to judge, less attached to a narrow store of opinions and beliefs. They will probably be kinder, because a reader has vicariously experienced injustice, poverty, tragedy, and bigotry, and they know that people are generally good but can fall victim to undeserved and unwanted life circumstances.

Readers are just deeper thinkers, in my view.

Despite our different literary tastes, Jennifer and I do share some favorites; she loves Barbara Kingsolver as much as I do, we both claim All the Light We Cannot See as one of our most cherished reads, and though I haven’t read him in years, we’ve both enjoyed the mystery novels of Tony Hillerman because we love the Southwest settings. And I may very possibly read the sea monster novel when she’s through with it. I’m the one who heard an interview with its author on NPR and recommended the book to her.

So, I’m presently experiencing one of those pleasant interludes that I’ve always valued, when this moment seems like a beautiful eternity.

Summer breeze makes me feel fine
Blowin' through the jasmine in my mind
—Seals and Croft, 1972 

This is just a brief letter to report that today I realized that the best friend I’ve always desired—the creative, inquisitive, sensitive, kind, and well-read one—is already here. I’m married to her!

How about that? 😊🩷

DB 🙏

Jennifer participates in an “express yourself” free graffiti day at our public library

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*All photos by the author