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The beginning of March is always miserable, but there is plenty of joy if you know where to look.
I grew up in a household of hardworking Baptists: my father was a minister, as was my Grandfather, all my Uncles, and even—the biggest scandal of my family—my Aunt Louise.
Mine was the kind of family where the threat of salvation was omnipresent, but the promise of joy was often misplaced. This is probably obvious, but there were not many photographs of smiling children in our family albums.
Like any rebellious child in such a family, I spent years finding ways to amuse myself. Most importantly, I learned that small freedoms were a profound joy.
By the time I was a young teen, I had discovered that one simple trick that allowed me an unheard-of level of freedom: getting a job at a restaurant. The food, wine, and all the beautiful people were all a bit much for the son of a preacher man.
From a childhood of Bibles and chores, I jumped into joy and life as a bona fide adult—freedom! But it took me three careers—as a journalist, a chef, and a winemaker—to realize my true calling.
To my horror, I ended up a preacher of sorts, but not one that my family would ever approve of: I was—religiously, vociferously, and ardently—an advocate of joy. That is to say, I founded the wine school.
I have devoted over twenty years to this job, yet it still changes every semester and for every student. Some students find joy in becoming a winemaker, others in becoming wealthy, others in having a deep knowledge of wine, or for a hundred other reasons I must be open to.
If you’ve ever been in one of our classes, you’re already part of this strange, wonderful family. And if you haven’t yet, maybe it’s time to pull up a chair.
Here's to living in joy, no matter what.
Keith |
