Smile, Caregiver—And the Whole World Smiles with You!

I don’t believe you can overrate the power of a genuine smile to create an accepting, joyful atmosphere. Of course, some of us smile naturally—maybe a result of mirroring a parent or two—and others have to train themselves to pull both corners of the mouth up and then strain to let their teeth show. I never understood the fact that automatic smiling in response to other people is a cultural construct until I began to teach ESL classes. Over the course of a semester, I noticed that only one of the five Saudi Arabian women in my class ever smiled. At first I thought it must be a difference in personality or a natural ability to adapt to new situations that caused her to be more outwardly cheerful than her classmates. Eventually, I learned that she had noticed that Americans (at least a good number of Texans) smiled frequently, and so she practiced in front of a mirror until she was able to smile spontaneously.

In our culture a smile communicates a positive presence and friendliness, a person who shares their joy with the world, and when given with other actions of concern, a person who cares about others. When smiling doesn’t come spontaneously during difficult times, some people have found ways to force themselves to smile and found that this simple action has given them the strength to go on. (https://www.nbcnews.com/better/health/smiling-can-trick-your-brain-happiness-boost-your-health-ncna822591)

Your smile can give your care receivers courage, hope, and a reason to cooperate with your requests of them. I have seen the truth of this claim play out in a friend of mine’s caregiving endeavors. She has a beautiful smile which she bestows on friends and care receivers frequently . . .and a generous laugh to go along with the "pearly whites." Consequently, those she cares for usually eat their food, take their medicine, or stay in bed—just about whatever she asks of them is done with pleasure— even when they are in the habit of refusing to cooperate with sterner caregivers. Because she smiles at them and laughs with them, those who receive her care request her company over and over.

Smiles work both ways. A caregiver’s smile warms the life of those she/he cares for, and a care receiver’s smile can warm our lives in like manner. From my high school years I still remember a teenager I worked with who had developmental challenges. Mostly I remember her big smile and cheerful attitude. (I don’t recall her down days, but I’m pretty sure she had some.) I hope that if she remembers me, it is also my smiling face that she recalls.

I’m almost positive that my own smiles began as a result of parental attention. Seeing my father’s smile and hearing my mother’s laugh is probably what I miss most since they’ve been gone. A few years ago I commemorated the beauty of my father’s smile in the following poem:

His Smile Still Lives

I remember that smiling moment in the mall

When he became a naughty child again, making

Funny faces in the glass; my mother blushed

And tried to distract his playfulness.

His funny smile still hides inside of me

And I remember that he grinned and danced

to Lawrence Welk

Right there in the living room without a partner.

He had never danced before and we were unsure

Why he left off strumming his guitar

And took up moving his feet.

My richest legacy that smile . . .

It captured my heart as soon as I could recognize

The playful crinkles of his face,

And soon I realized that the corners of his lips

were full of music.

I jealously guarded his smile, and felt my first pain

When he shared it with my sister

In their game of “Tiger’s teeth.”

Now I would be glad to share the reflection

Of that smile with all the sisters in the world . . . maybe

Even brothers and cousins and . . .

Oh, to see that smile again, to feel its music

Breathe love and confidence into my soul.

(Dedicated to my father, Clarence E. Vaughn, who died at age 65, on February 22, 1999, of Alzheimer’s Disease.