I Don't Know It, And If I Did, I Wouldn't Show It That Way

I Don’t Know It, And If I Did, I Probably Wouldn’t Show It That Way

By Dave Woehrle

Like most people about to turn thirty, I’m trying to figure out where it all went wrong. In analyzing my childhood for possible wrong turns, I found the culprit: the song “If You’re Happy and You Know It.”

            This is no silly song. It’s a goddamn existential riddle. Why, you ask? Because the lyrics don’t go, “If you’re happy, clap your hands.” It goes, “If you’re happy, and you know it, clap your hands.”

Firstly, how does one know one is happy? It’s a difficult question, especially for a pre-school student. Adults spend lots of money in therapy answering such questions.

Secondly, the first word of the song (“if”) makes it a conditional tune. Yet the alternative is unknown. It doesn’t go, “If you’re happy, and you know it, clap your hands; if not, the Play-Doh is over there.” That would certainly be a better song. How can it be true happiness when there’s no element of choice involved?

            Let’s take this song phrase by phrase as I give you my running commentary.

“If you’re happy…”

Sure. I’m a happy kid. I run through water sprinklers and enjoy juice boxes. My parents haven’t scalded me with acid or anything. My brother is kind of a dick but he’s fun to watch wrestling with. Yeah. I’m happy. Sure.

“...and you know it.”

Wait. What? How does one know it? I thought I knew it. Or maybe I felt it. Am I supposed to know everything I feel or feel everything I know? Is happiness just a good thought? What do I think about how I feel? And how do I feel about that thought? Damn. This shit’s heavy. Metacognition is not for five year olds.

“...clap your hands.”

Okay, slow down. I’m still grappling with self-aware happiness and you are all clapping like circus seals. It’s disorienting. Happiness is hand-clapping? Really? This is how you show happiness? That seems an abrasive, narrow view of such an emotion.

"…If you're happy and you know it, and you really want to show it…”

What if I don’t want to show it? What business is it of yours, anyway? How can anyone be happy around forced, non-consensual hand-clapping? This is nonsense. What if I show my happiness by leaning on a maple tree at dusk, eating dinosaur-shaped fruit snacks in my backyard alone while I have weird sexual fantasies about April from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles? Where’s that song?

           

The song gives two more actions for happiness-showing.

“...stomp your feet.”

Jesus. Really? If I’m going to move my feet, it’s to travel about as I please, not to perform some obligatory military stomp.

“…shout hooray!”

I’ll shout when I want to shout, thank you very much. I’m still thinking about this happiness business. Can’t we just finger paint and forget this enigmatic tune?

The song ends in a trifecta: “…do all three!”

No. I’m not doing all three. What happened to “Old MacDonald”? There was a song and a man I could respect. No one questioned if he was happy. He had farm chores. He had animals with their fine hilarious noises. Old MacDonald didn’t need to clap.

So there it was. My first taste of happiness: it’s something you do loudly in unison in public with predetermined actions. It was a sick, joyous cacophony of non-thinking. It seemed like bullshit.

My lack of participation in this song made me an instant outcast in school. I got invitations to birthday parties, sure, but my peers feared my lack of hand-clapping, foot-stomping, and hooray-ing. At the Chuck-E-Cheese, while my friends played Top Gun and Mario in the arcade, I escaped to the room with the sea of plastic balls, sank to the bottom, and quietly pissed my pants.

The song haunts me to this day. How can it be happiness if you don’t have a choice? A big part of freedom is the freedom to be miserable. And that makes me pretty happy.

Here’s my revised version of “If You’re Happy And You Know It”

“If you’re tolerating existence with a sense of grace, then that’s a really good thing. You don’t have to do anything with your hands, feet, or voice. Unless you want to. Then go ahead. We’re gonna get through this, damn it.”