Happiness is funny. I desperately crave it when I don’t have it. And when it arrives I rarely know what to do with it. Anyone relate? It might seem an odd moment to muse on happiness. The gray winter months are upon us, the pandemic continues to rage with all its attendant grief, the democratic experiment feels more fragile than ever. But happiness is a fickle visitor and it feels obscene to not at least honor it when it drops by for a visit.