by R.P. Burnham
One day Griswold had an idea. There were too many sour pusses around, he decided. People trudging along keeping their eyes to the ground and their mouths set determinedly wasn't exactly his idea of a fun society. Is this what that Nathan Hale guy regretted he only had one life to give for? Is this what that Jefferson guy meant by the pursuit of happiness? Griswold figured America had to be just about the most unhappy place on earth. Everyone pretended to be happy when you asked them, but the way they were on the street told the real story, and since that's where Griswold lived, he saw the real thing.
Luckily he'd read in a book that smiles were infectious. The guy in the book said they were the one gift that when you gave it, it was given back to you double. Griswold was a serious and concerned citizen, so he decided to give this advice a go. He built and wore a sandwich board that had HAVE A NICE DAY printed in big red letters fore and aft, and he walked up and down the streets smiling at people. But you can probably guess the results. "Get lost, pal" and "piss off" were among the nicer things his fellow Americans said to him, so finally Griswold gave up on his idea. He figured if everyone was going to live in his own little world then America would have to remain an unhappy place. He burnt his sign one cold night and smiled at the fire, which was at least twice as warm as he was.
