Guest Column: The bright side

I am the poster child for “Always look on the bright side.” That song from Monty Python’s movie was the theme for my weekly commentary on WLIW radio, back when I used to do that.

But I don’t always look on the bright side. To be honest, when things turn to worms, my immediate reaction is to stomp and slam cupboard doors, cursing my bad luck and snapping at the nearest living thing — any person, animal or even plant. (Though I do try to be nicer to my plants, because unlike people or pets, they don’t snap back.)

However, after I get that initial reaction out of my system, I default to the “bright side.” Things have turned to a bucket of worms? Good. Let’s go fishing. Life gave me lemons? Yay, let’s make lemonade.

That’s what happened in the IGA parking lot while talking with a friend. I heard the squawks of dozens of seagulls and,of course, I looked up. When I looked at my friend to say, “Don’t look up!” a seagull, or perhaps seven, let loose. On me. Direct hit. Hair, back, front, head to toes. People tried to help me but all that stuff does is smear. I drove home, cursing the whole way, wrapped in IGA grocery bags and threw out those clothes on my way to the shower.

How is there a bright side to being a target of an aerial poop bomb? Because it could have been worse. Way worse. Just a splitsecond before the assault I was gazing upward, mouth open, talking. Are you picturing it? Obviously, that’s the target they were going for. But the lemon-icing on the bird splat is that my friend bought me a souvenir T-shirt covered with fake seagull droppings. Yay me!

Often, when I force myself to look on the bright side, things turn out better than I’d ever expect, or dare I say deserve, which is what happened with me and Bruce Springsteen. Yes. That Bruce Springsteen.

He was on his “Born to Run” concert tour, and we got free tickets through Coecles Harbor Marina because Billy Joel was their customer. After a threeplus- hour drive to the Meadowlands, we were to grab our tickets at will-call. Since the tickets were free, I was expecting nosebleed seats, but that was okay because, Bruce plus Free equals Jackpot! But “Yay me!” turned into a bucket of worms real fast when our tickets were not at will-call. And the show was sold out, which was probably a blessing because even the cheap seats were hundreds of dollars.

Who knows if it was name-dropping “Coecles Harbor” or “Billy Joel,” but after a few minutes we were handed off to a lady with a clipboard and a walkie-talkie who said, “Follow me.” I wiped my tears and we followed as she led us not up, but down, down, down, to the rows of seats in a dark area behind the stage. By then I was sputtering, “Forget this! Let’s go home!”

My companion tried to calm me by saying, “Calm down!” (In recorded history, when has saying “Calm down!” ever worked?)

I tried though, telling myself that the bright side was a nice ride from Shelter Island to New Jersey. And back. Yay me.

And just like that, things got brighter as we followed Miss Walkie-Talkie past the back of the stage to the floor level, finally stopping in the high-rent district, at two front-row seats just feet from the stage. So close I could look up Springsteen’s nose and by the end of the concert, when he was drenched and spraying sweat, it landed right on me. I kid you not. I could have reached out and touched his boot if it wasn’t for the mean-looking security guard who was already keeping an eye on me. What started out as a bummer turned into a great night.

A more recent “bright side” event happened last month after I’d donated a purse to a thrift shop. I’d swing through every week and it bothered me enormously to see it still there, forlorn and rejected by other thrifters. Finally, I paid the stinking $5 and bought it back. So what’s the bright side of that, paying again for a purse I didn’t want and no one else did either?

Tucked inside was a hundred-dollar bill I’d forgotten that I’d stashed into the deepest pocket when I bought the purse (the first time). Yay me! Of course, my “bright side” cheated some other thrifter out of their “Yay me!” moment, but come on, they had three weeks.

If there’s a lesson here, I guess it’s to try to always look on the bright side. And also in the deepest pockets.

Joanne Sherman is a Shelter Island resident and longtime contributor to Times Review Media Group.