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June 12, 2006: Here’s to Tofu, Baseball, Heroin—and Dad!
Let me start by thanking Mr. John Lincoln of Hanover, New Hampshire, who was attentive and literate enough to notice that the Shakespeare quote that opens Chapter 6 of Stumbling on Happiness is incorrectly attributed. These lines, in fact, were uttered by Lady Macbeth. No one else has yet written to tell me about an improper reference, and perhaps that’s one of the benefits of referencing so many dead people. I’ll do my best to make sure this is corrected in the paperback.
Let me also thank those of you who bought Stumbling and this week and made it #11 on the Booksense Bestseller list, #19 on the New York Times Bestseller list, and #6 on the Maclean’s Bestseller list in Canada.
I apologize for being MIA this month, but I was on a book tour for most of May, visiting New York, Washington, Chicago, Minneapolis, Denver, Seattle, San Francisco, Toronto (twice), Montreal, and Ottawa, giving several public talks, and appearing on roughly 50 radio and television shows. What I learned from all of this is that when you answer the same question for the 50th time you start to have an out-of-body experience that isn’t a bad substitute for gin.
A few of the interviewers I met this month had read the dust jacket of my book several minutes before I entered the studio. Many others had read the book cover to cover and were prepared to have a good conversation about it. My personal award for Best Interviewer goes to Krys Boys of KERA-FM, the NPR affiliate in Dallas, who had read more carefully and thought more deeply about my book than I had. She asked me several questions—for example “Are children as happy as we think they are?” and “Do happy people tend to marry other happy people?”—that I’d never thought about and couldn’t even begin to answer. I love being baffled.
While on the road, I learned that many readers are especially interested in the research that suggests that our children don’t make us happy. I devote just a few brief pages (pp. 221-222) to this topic in Stumbling, but I clearly should have devoted more. So when Time (click here) asked if I’d contribute an essay for Father’s Day, I knew just what I wanted to say.
Sonora Smart Dodd was listening to a sermon on self-sacrifice when she decided that her father, a widower who had raised six children, deserved his very own national holiday. Almost a century later, people all over the world spend the third Sunday in June honoring their fathers with ritual offerings of aftershave and neckties, which leads millions of fathers to have precisely the same thought at precisely the same moment: “My children,” they think in unison, “make me happy.”
Could all those dads be wrong?
Studies reveal that most married couples start out happy and then become progressively less satisfied over the course of their lives, becoming especially disconsolate when their children are in diapers and in adolescence, and returning to their initial levels of happiness only after their children have had the decency to grow up and go away. When the popular press invented a malady called “empty-nest syndrome,” it failed to mention that its primary symptom is a marked increase in smiling.
Psychologists have measured how people feel as they go about their daily activities, and have found that people are less happy when they are interacting with their children than when they are eating, exercising, shopping or watching television. Indeed, an act of parenting makes most people about as happy as an act of housework. Economists have modeled the impact of many variables on people’s overall happiness and have consistently found that children have only a small impact. A small negative impact.
Those findings are hard to swallow because they fly in the face of our most compelling intuitions. We love our children! We talk about them to anyone who will listen, show their photographs to anyone who will look and hide our refrigerators behind vast collages of their drawings, notes, pictures and report cards. We feel confident that we are happy with our kids, about our kids, for our kids and because of our kids—so why is our personal experience at odds with the scientific data?
First, when something makes us happy we are willing to pay a lot for it, which is why the worst Belgian chocolate is more expensive than the best Belgian tofu. But that process can work in reverse: when we pay a lot for something, we assume it makes us happy, which is why we swear to the wonders of bottled water and Armani socks. The compulsion to care for our children was long ago written into our DNA, so we toil and sweat, lose sleep and hair, play nurse, housekeeper, chauffeur and cook, and we do all that because nature just won’t have it any other way. Given the high price we pay, it isn’t surprising that we rationalize those costs and conclude that our children must be repaying us with happiness.
Second, if the Red Sox and the Yankees were scoreless until Manny Ramirez hit a grand slam in the bottom of the ninth, you can be sure that Boston fans would remember it as the best game of the season. Memories are dominated by their most powerful—and not their most typical—instances. Just as a glorious game-winning homer can erase our memory of 8 1/2 dull innings, the sublime moment when our 3-year-old looks up from the mess she is making with her mashed potatoes and says, “I wub you, Daddy,” can erase eight hours of no, not yet, not now and stop asking. Children may not make us happy very often, but when they do, that happiness is both transcendent and amnesic.
Third, although most of us think of heroin as a source of human misery, shooting heroin doesn’t actually make people feel miserable. It makes them feel really, really good—so good, in fact, that it crowds out every other source of pleasure. Family, friends, work, play, food, sex—none can compete with the narcotic experience; hence all fall by the wayside. The analogy to children is all too clear. Even if their company were an unremitting pleasure, the fact that they require so much company means that other sources of pleasure will all but disappear. Movies, theater, parties, travel—those are just a few of the English nouns that parents of young children quickly forget how to pronounce. We believe our children are our greatest joy, and we’re absolutely right. When you have one joy, it’s bound to be the greatest.
Our children give us many things, but an increase in our average daily happiness is probably not among them. Rather than deny that fact, we should celebrate it. Our ability to love beyond all measure those who try our patience and weary our bones is at once our most noble and most human quality. The fact that children don’t always make us happy—and that we’re happy to have them nonetheless—is the fact for which Sonora Smart Dodd was so grateful. She thought we would all do well to remember it, every third Sunday in June.
Walker, C. (1977). Some variations in marital satisfaction. In R. Chester & J. Peel (Eds.), Equalities and inequalities in family life (pp. 127-139). London: Academic Press.
Kahneman, D., Krueger, A. B., Schkade, D. A., Schwarz, N., & Stone, A. A. (2004). A survey method for characterizing daily life experience: The day reconstruction method. Science, 306, 1776-1780.
DiTella, R., MacCulloch, R. J., & Oswald, A. J. (2003). The macroeconomics of happiness. The Review of Economics and Statistics, 85, 809-827.
Aronson, E., & Mills, J. (1958). The effect of severity of initiation on liking for a group. Journal of Abnormal and Social Psychology, 59, 177-181.
Kahneman, D., Fredrickson, B. L., Schreiber, C. A., & Redelmeier, D. A. (1993). When more pain is preferred to less: Adding a better ending. Psychological Science, 4, 401-405.
Morewedge, C. K., Gilbert, D. T., & Wilson, T. D. (2005). The least likely of times: How memory for past events biases the prediction of future events. Psychological Science, 16, 626-630.
Posted by Dan Gilbert on June 12, 2006 | Blog home
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