Finding joy in unexpected places with Steve Hartman

For many, it's a mystery that blooms anew every spring. How many years has this been here? I don't know. A long time though. This field of daffodils, far too many to be growing by chance, far too beautiful to not stop and stroll. Seems randomly set along a narrow two lane road in southwestern Connecticut. And when I drive by, it just brings tears to my eyes. Because that's how I remember them. To Patty Pavlik, this field is no mystery. Her aunt and Uncle Bud and Florence McQuaid used to own the land. Patty says her Uncle Bud planted these daffodils because Florence loved them so and because he loved her so through 60 years of marriage. So every day was as happy as this day. I would surmise so as Testament, yes, yes. Today there are roughly 40,000 flowers. That was his memory of her. After Florence died, dividing the bulbs to grow more became Bud's annual tribute and obsession. He lived to 103, planting daffodils almost to the very end. Bud passed in 2019 and his property went on the market. It's a prime building lot, so many thought that would be the end of it. You know someone would build something on this and this would become just someone's front lawn and the flowers would be gone. But neighbor Stacey Steinmetz stepped in buying the property and the metaphor that comes with it. I guess just like his love grew, the field continues to grow. You know it's everlasting and it's expanding, so I certainly wouldn't want that to be lost. So it stays an eternal sign of spring and brilliantly illustrated love story, documenting in vivid color for couples everywhere. It smells so good. It does just how endless. Love can be. Steve Hartman on the road in Redding, CT. At 78, Max Oliver is an old salt, but to his crewmate on this lobster boat Max is but a child. Her child, Virginia Oliver is 101. Maine's oldest lobster fisherman, three days a week, May through November. You can find Virginia out here on Penobscot Bay balancing on her sealegs. Tackling one of the most hazardous jobs in the country. Have they ever gotten out? Not long ago she got cut so badly she needed seven stitches and the doctor said to me, what are you out there? Lobster info? Good question. And I said, because I want to. I think he might have thought that was a little too dangerous for somebody of your age. I don't care what he thought. Clearly, yeah, Virginia has been lobstering on and off since the age of seven. She used to go out with her father. It was man's work then, not another girl in sight. But 94 years later, she is the master of the sea. After Max hauls in the traps, Virginia measures the lobsters, don't go and tosses out the small ones, throw it away, and then tames the claws of the keepers. Who's the boss out there? I am OK. So let's say he didn't want to go out one day. He's too tired. No, no, I won't put up that stuff. Virginia says she expects nothing of her son that she wouldn't do herself. Unfortunately for her son, how many days have you called in sick in the last year? No, she don't give up. What would she say if you said I'm ready to retire? You better have something wrong with you. As for Virginia's retirement date, she's not going to give up. She says you'll find that one place in one place only etched on her tombstone when I die. When you die, yeah. In other words, no time soon. Steve Hartman on the road in Rockland, Maine. The dress was white, but according to residents at the O'Bannon Terrace retirement home outside Cincinnati, everything else about this wedding was far from traditional. The ceremony was very. Oh, I'm looking for the right word crazy. Oh yeah, but that's Dottie. So you 76 year old Dottie Fideli, who had been divorced for decades, was always the life of the party. A costume wearing attention glaring, but forever caring friend. Dottie is a very loving person, always in a great mood, always just doing something to make somebody laugh and happy. But even though she seems so vivacious and confident to others, before she found the love of her life, Dottie saw a very different person in the mirror. A little dummy. I couldn't read. And people have conversations and I had to stay out of him because I didn't understand. So I started reading. I didn't tell nobody. Started teaching yourself. Yes, because practice makes perfect. Let's see, it took almost two years of nightly practice, but today she has conquered her illiteracy Whitewater Canal and Dottie says it was reading that helped her find love again. A love like she'd never known love of self. And so last month, Dottie married. Dottie love is patient. Obviously it wasn't a real wedding, but Dottie says it was meant as a serious reminder that before you can share love you first have to glean it from the only known source. Within and you'll find out. It's all a bed of roses. The message that she put across that day of how life should be really touched a lot of people's hearts. And now opens the possibility for perhaps a real wedding. Is there a man out there that could top the love you have right now? That's not happening. You're happy with who you married. I'm I'm happy with who I am. Sounds like this one's taken. Yeah, I'm going home. Steve Hartman on the road near Cincinnati. Any electrician can flip a switch, but only John Kinney of Woburn, MA can make a customer light up like this. Please don't pinch me cause I don't want to wake up. Yeah, that's one fine electrician. 1000 times over as we first reported a few months ago, it all started when 73 year old Gloria Scott called John to fix a ceiling light, but he soon discovered that broken light was the least of her problems. Too poor to make any house repairs and too prideful to ask for help. Gloria's house was in total disrepair. No lights, no running water. Yeah, I think I seen on a Friday that stuck with me over the weekend. I said I gotta go back there, you know, so John returned and started working for free. He also started a Facebook page titled nice old lady needs help where he called on other trades people to join him on the Facebook page. You said it's not like we're trying to rebuild her whole house. Yeah, well, now it looks like we are. It sure does. This whole porch is going to get rebuilt. You can see up there. That's where like a lot of raccoons and stuff were getting in. They spent months putting in all new electrical, all new plumbing, new windows and walls and ceilings. Almost everything got repaired or replaced from the backyard lawn to the front porch steps. Wow, it's what you're supposed to do. It's what you're supposed to do. Seems the whole town of Woburn has bought into that mantra. Come on and as a result today, the old eyesore is a site for sore eyes. All her blight replaced with pure pure pure pure light. I can't even comprehend the gratitude that I have. John is equally speechless. You know, it's just there's no words for it. You know. It's not going to end with this house though either, is it? I don't want it to, and that's why we put a name to it. The glorious gladiators and we want to keep going with us. John is now setting up chapters of glorious gladiators across the country, helping seniors in similar situations. Seniors like Gloria Scott, who had a broken light but now shines brightly thanks to an electrician hardwired for kindness. Steve Hartman on the road in Wooburn, MA. When you see an alligator coming down the street towards you, it's only natural to either drop your jaw or panic that he'll drop his. But alligator expert Joe Henney says his alligator poses no threat. I've never met an alligator that will not bite you. You fool around the head like this. Their instinct is to grab you. He does not do it. You can reach in there, rub his tongue. He refuses to close his mouth. We don't know why. Yeah, there you go. Wally was found in a pond at Disney World. He had to go, and since in Florida, it's illegal to relocate alligators to another spot in the wild. Joe agreed to take him in today. Wally lives on Cheetos and chicken legs in Joe's house near Hershey, good boy. At this point, I should probably say what should go without saying. Don't try this at home. Joe says there may not be another alligator on the planet as gentle, and certainly no other. It's cuddly. I don't think I'd be here right now if this was just another guy with an alligator. Not that there's a whole lot of those out there, but there's a special bond between you two. Very special. He is my emotional support alligator. You heard right, emotional support alligator. A few years ago, after Joe lost some people close to him, he says he fell into a deep depression. And about that same time, he says Wally began behaving differently, more affectionate, almost like he sensed his depression. I laid on the couch, and I wake up, and he'd be laying on my head. And I knew it for a long period of time, because I had this whole jaw print on my face. You don't wake up when you have an alligator on your face? I was so depressed, I did not. It also marked a new chapter in their relationship. Joe started bringing Wally everywhere, from the doctor's office to the drive-thru. You can pet him. He's been to a splash park. Wally. And was even ring bearer in a wedding. They are together day and, yes, night too. And as a result, Joe says his depression is dramatically improved. I'll get lonely and stuff like that there, and he seems to sense that stuff. And he'll come up and give me a hug, and makes me feel loved. He may be an alligator, but I can attest, those are not crocodile tears. Steve Hartman, on the road, near Hershey, Pennsylvania. If you take a ferry to Iloho, an island community way off the coast of Maine, you can visit the gift shop, the general store, and, well, that's it, just the general store and the gift shop. There are literally no other businesses on the island. So people who live out here are resilient, they're creative. And they're few, too few, according to Bob Olney, president of the Iloho Community Development Corporation. And it's essential that we continue to attract families. So last year, this community of about 50 year-round residents made a post, hoping to woo a new family. They were careful not to oversell the place. Though it's not everyone's cup of tea, who knows? It may very well be yours. And they got a taker, a young family from Central Massachusetts. Ready? Dakota Waters, his son, Flynn, wife, Hannah, and their baby, Amelia, moved here a few months ago. Oh, our whole family thought we were psychotic. They're like a remote island in the middle of the ocean. Had you been on an island before? Nope, never even been on the ocean. And yet, here they live, the newest members of a dying breed. Uh-oh. At one point, there were about 300 communities out here on Maine's most isolated islands. Now, just over a dozen remain. And keeping those alive will require a new breed of frontiersmen, folks who value solitude over Starbucks, and really don't mind a little adversity. People have traded the good life for a convenient one, and convenience isn't always the best. To that point, the Waters raise some of their own food and work multiple jobs. I'll cut your chickens. Dakota does plumbing, lawn maintenance. The old landlubber even works on a lobster boat. And as for the children, this year, his son, Flynn, was one of just two kids in the K-8 schoolhouse. And that was the other. It's Nolan. The place is just that small. But Dakota says the tininess is more blessing than curse. There we go! We have so much more bonding time with the kids. It's indescribably wholesome. You think you're here for good? Yeah. I'm not moving my stuff off this rock again. It was too hard to get it here. Come for the beauty, stay because it's too hard to leave. Could be another soft-sell ad. Steve Hartman, way off the road on Ilahoe, Maine. As a drug treatment court judge in Shakopee, Minnesota, the Honorable Chris Wilton has seen some pretty desperate cases. Good afternoon, thank you, please be seated. But he says none more desperate than the heroin addict who first appeared before him in the spring of 2014. Her name is Jennifer Jensen. You remember when she first came in here? I do. Eight months pregnant and clearly using drugs. That's as bad as it gets. There's nobody worse than her. And yet, woeful as she was, a smile still comes to his face at the thought of her. Because today, 24-year-old Jennifer Jensen is clean. 33 months clean, with a healthy son by her side and a wretched past behind. Hooked on heroin by high school, Jennifer posed for more mug shots than yearbook photos. And when she eventually landed in Judge Wilton's courtroom, he somehow saw potential. He took a special interest, stayed on her, made her appear in court more than any other, 27 times total. At first, I was like, it's annoying. I have to see this guy this much all the time. Like, I don't wanna see this judge all the time. But in hindsight, Jennifer says he saved her life. Yeah, I would not be here at all, probably. That's saying a lot. Jennifer's mom, Carrie Martin, says she can't thank that judge enough. Every time I see him, I'm like, you saved my daughter's life. And he's like, no, I was just the judge. I'm like, no, she looks at you like a father. And that's why, after her final appearance, Jennifer approached the bench with a very special plea. She walked up and asked me if I would perform her marriage. And I was there. There are no quick fixes to America's heroin epidemic. But if there is a lesson in this happy ending, it's that the solution is rooted in tough love and good judges who know when it's time to go heavier on the tough. You're on thin ice. And when it's time to go all in with the love. Steve Hartman, on the road in Shakopee, Minnesota. Although her dancing days are done, Phyllis Brinkerhoff of Prairie Village, Kansas says she's not too old to appreciate a sick beat. In fact, Mrs. B, as she's known in the neighborhood, is obsessed with one dance song in particular. It's just a fun, joyous song. You put your right arm in. The Hokey Pokey. And you know how when you love a song, you want your friends to love it too? Well, that's why Mrs. B gave her neighbor, Melanie Mendres, a Hokey Pokey CD, and started talking about the song constantly. I can see her name pop up on my phone and I just thought, oh, it's the Hokey Pokey. Hi, this is Phyllis. Mrs. B left dozens of messages. I really do need to talk to you. Urgently pleading her case. The CD I gave you, are you hooked on it yet? And I just would always say, not quite yet. Melanie's reluctance baffled Mrs. B. You know, most people don't care really at all for the Hokey Pokey. Really? Really. I find that very amazing. Do you? Still, she knew her crusade was all but lost. Then one day, Mrs. B happened to mention that her birthday was coming up, her 93rd. And when Melanie heard that, she decided to embrace what she'd been resisting. Or to put it in Hokey Pokey parlance, she put her whole self in. We made copies of the invitation, we rolled them in little scrolls and we wrapped ribbons around them and traipsed up and down the street. It was a Hokey Pokey flash mob. The smile on her face was so big. It doesn't take that much to make someone's day. And I think we could all do a little more of it. Because that's what it's all about. Steve Hartman, CBS News, on the road. After his retirement, and especially after his wife died, 76-year-old Danny Chauvin of Waveland, Mississippi, says he had way too much time on his hands. If you're alone with just your thoughts, does your mind wander places? Yeah. Oh yeah. That you don't want to go? Yep, that's when stuff comes back to you. Danny served in the Army in Vietnam. He's been treated for depression and PTSD. But to keep his sanity, he knew he also had to keep busy. But how? And that's when Danny realized one of the things he missed most about his wife was all the little handyman jobs he used to do for her. So a few months ago, he posted a note on Facebook. If there's any honeydew jobs that you can't handle, I'm willing to help. And it spread, spread like wildfire. Thanks for coming to help me out. So now every day. No problem. Sometimes four times a day, Danny fixes the hole in his heart by fixing just about everything else. He's working on fixing a closet door. And then he hung my porch swing. He put in a shower. And he did my screen door. And the best part? What does he charge for all this? The price. Zero. Nothing. Charge does nothing. He showed much kindness to people. We can fix that up. Most of the people Danny helps are women. Most single or widowed. They call him the honeydew dude and say he's just about the only guy they know willing to help with these small jobs. And obviously, no one's gonna match his price point. In fact, when the work is done, only thing he takes is a picture, a reminder that he is not alone in his struggle. Right now, I got a lot of friends. A lot of friends. Is the PTSD any better now that you've started doing this? Yeah. Oh yeah. That's what I was looking for. Cross finding happiness off the honeydew list. Voila. Steve Hartman, on the road. Okey doke. In Waveland, Mississippi. No problem. If anyone has earned a coffee break, it's 63-year-old Mike Mason of Midlothian, Virginia. Mike served his country, first as a captain in the Marines. Mike Mason from the FBI. And later, as the number four man at the FBI. Good afternoon. Mike left the Bureau in 2007, went on to work as an executive at a Fortune 500 company, and then the chief operating officer of this rocking chair. But Mike says retirement did not sit well with him. I still had a mind, and I still had things I thought I was capable of doing. But if Mike was going to start a new chapter, he knew it would have to be something really important. A job with a big payout, worthy of his time. So in the end, the choice was clear. How you doing? Hi. From top of the FBI. Doing great. To head of the BUS. Mike Mason may be the most overqualified school bus driver in America. When I gave them my resume, I actually got called by a very senior person in the county, and he said, just checking. Did you mean to apply for this job? Why do you want to be a bus driver? And I told him. Mike had heard the Chesterfield County Public School District was down 125 drivers, part of a national crisis. In fact, more than half the school districts in America are reporting severe driver shortages. So Mike stepped up and went all in. I mean, this guy actually waxes his bus. Why? Because it's just how I roll. This is the Marines coming back. But I think this is important work. I do. Do you sincerely believe that what you're doing today is as important as what you were doing at the FBI? I do. I think in our society, we need to get next to the idea that there are no unimportant jobs. I mean, what could be more important than the attention we pay to our education system? So you continue to advance in your career. That's exactly right. I'm paid a lot less, but I continue to advance in my career. Yes, indeed. As for the salary, Mike says he already donated all of what he expects to make this year, more than $30,000 to various charities. But of course, the much bigger gift is far less tangible. Mike Mason had climbed to the highest level, but by stepping back down to the bottom rung, he is giving us the greatest leadership of all, leadership by example. All right, see you later. Steve Hartman, on the road in Midlothian, Virginia. Oh my gosh, let's find the picture. Peter and Lisa Marshall of Andover, Connecticut are paging through the most memorable day of their lives. It was unforgettable. But he's forgotten it. He has forgotten it. Who's this? It's the saddest part, because you wanna reminisce and you're alone in the memory. Red Wing Blackbird. As we first reported a couple years ago, Peter was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer's. Eventually, he not only forgot his wedding day. He's pretty, isn't he? He forgot his wife. Lisa became just another nameless caretaker. And yet, a whisper of their love must have remained, because Lisa says all of a sudden, he began courting her, as if they'd just started dating. Until one day, a wedding scene came on TV. Peter pointed to the screen and said, let's do it. And I said, do what? And he pointed again. And I said, do you wanna get married? And he got this grin on his face. And he said, yeah. So he fell in love with me again. Lisa accepted his proposal and staged a wedding for her already husband. Can't even describe to you how magical it was. He was so present. And it was very touching. Peter, you may kiss your bride. Lisa says Peter hadn't been this lucid in weeks. But it was a Cinderella moment. The clock struck 12. And by the next morning, this wedding too was lost to the fog. Yes. But Lisa says she fully expected that. I'm the one who's gonna remember that. And that's gonna help me heal later. Unfortunately, later came. Peter died about a year ago. Lisa is now advocating for other Alzheimer's patients and their families. She has also written a book called, Oh, Hello Alzheimer's. I wanted people to understand the devastation of the disease. But mostly I want people to continue to find joy and really focus on being present with their loved ones. Do that. And Lisa says Alzheimer's will never defeat you. It'll just make your love all the more invincible. Steve Hartman, On The Road in Andover, Connecticut. When 67 year old Carla Wilson found out she had terminal cancer and that treatment would only prolong her life, not save it. This divorced mother of four was understandably depressed. More pills. And ready to give up. Until one day her youngest daughter, Robin, suggested an unconventional treatment. Not to cure her cancer, just her attitude. You know, she was very confused. Like, why are we doing this? I didn't want to. Cause I thought it was silly. Her daughter's idea, a nose job. They wore these to chemo one day. And that started the ball rolling. We started making it fun. Chemo? Yes. You made chemo fun? Yes. After the noses, every time they came here to the McKee Cancer Center in Loveland, Colorado, Robin convinced her mom to wear a different costume. From tie dyes to tutus. From bumbling workmen to bumbling bees. What do you think? On this day, they went as Alice and the Mad Hatter. Hi. How's everybody doing? They always bring little gifts for the nurses and other patients. And they say this cheerfulness has had a profound effect on Carla's attitude. Thank you, honey. Yeah, it was like a switch. The mood changed. The mood changed dramatically. What started with the costumes has now spread to all aspects of their lives. A phenomenon they have dubbed Operation Choose Joy. We couldn't stop it. And we couldn't contain it. And it hasn't been put down since. Of course, laughter and a positive attitude can only do so much. The cancer will eventually take Carla's life. But when that time comes, this Alice in Wonderland says she'll be able to look back on her mother's cancer fight through a truly unique looking glass. I think that that is one of the reasons why we keep doing it and why I'm so adamant about it. Because I think that I'm going to remember this as something that we enjoyed. Cancer treatment. Something they enjoyed. I guess Alice can cross that off the list of impossible things. Steve Hartman, on the road in Loveland, Colorado. So as we gather here on this Memorial Day. At a ceremony in Poolsville, Maryland, American Legion Post 247 paid special tribute to one of its own. He was a Marine. He was most proud of being a Marine. The vet they're honoring is Gunnery Sergeant Richard Remp. Remp, who everyone called Gunny, quit high school to serve in World War II and stayed all the way through Vietnam. Here's all his ribbons. Friends Julian Singh and James Cappuccilli say he was highly decorated. That's right. And all those accomplishments. And there was still one thing left undone. Yes. High school diploma. That was his sort of farewell wish. Fortunately, Pennsylvania law allows for any honorably discharged veteran of World War II, Korea, or Vietnam to receive an honorary high school diploma. Unfortunately, it takes time. And Gunny had just days to live. Nevertheless, his friends, in desperation, reached out to school officials here in his hometown of Sharon, Pennsylvania. Hi. Superintendent Justie Glaros took the call. I have a lot of passion for the men and women that serve our country. And just everything inside of me said, you know, yes, go, do it. So she expedited the request and then went the extra mile, or more like the extra 550 miles, driving nearly five hours each way to hand deliver his diploma. It was overwhelming. And, you know, I knew that he had been weak, but in that moment, he wasn't. Like, he was all in. Gunny died two days later. He was 98. The last thing he really remembered was getting that high school diploma from Justie. This may be the most memorable graduation story of the season, but it is also not entirely unique. This weekend, and in the days ahead, about four million people will graduate high school. And behind each diploma, you'll find at least one educator who made the moment possible. Steve Hartman, on the road in Poolsville, Maryland. If there's anything even remotely good about having ALS, 56-year-old Craig Reagan of College Station, Texas says it may be a heightened sense of gratitude. Gratitude for caregivers like his wife, Nancy, friends like his dog, Taco, and memories like his 73 Ford Mustang, which, even though it stopped running back in 1999, has taken up permanent residence at his house. It's a big paperweight. A big paperweight. Why did you keep it? I just attached an attachment to it. He's had it since high school. He was proud of it. Craig had hoped that someday his boys might want to fix it up with him, but they showed no interest in cars. Then he planned to do it himself, but ALS had other plans. So the car sat rotting, until some old high school friends caught wind. And everybody, as soon as I called these guys, they were like, yeah, let's do it. It's in your heart. You just gotta help somebody like that. So, for the next year, they went to work on it, put in hundreds of hours, while other classmates paid for parts. And not long ago... Are you ready, Craig? That big, immovable paperweight... Was ready to lift off. It was just almost like a piece of him. It came back to life? It came back to life. Craig was diagnosed with ALS in 2016. The disease is incurable, but he has clearly found his treatment. What's it like to be back in it? I feel like I'm a teenager. And as for the people who made this moment possible, they insist the bigger gift was the lesson they received. He reminded us of something maybe we forgot. Yeah. Just do good stuff for people. That's all that matters. Just do good stuff today. Do good stuff today. No better medicine on earth. Steve Hartman, on the road, in College Station, Texas. It's a summer vacation tradition as old as overpacking. You load the kids in the car and head off down the road with a set plan for where you're going and when you'll get there. And that's when your children look out those darn windows. In back seats across the country this summer, they'll be begging. Can we go there? Or how about there? And although parents can obviously say no, you need to be aware. Your children may never forgive you. For example, when I was about eight or nine, we were driving through Gatlinburg, Tennessee when I spotted Hillbilly Golf, a mini golf course where you got to ride a funicular to the first hole. My parents sped past and I never forgot. So I reached out on Facebook looking for other stories of other parents who never stopped at other places. And I got a lot of co-misery. Dutch Wonderland. You knew you would have fun, but we just drove right past it. It's called the Crater of Diamonds and I could never understand why my dad would not let us dig for diamonds. Dinosaur World. It was a giant dinosaur. How could you not stop for the giant dinosaur? Some live a lifetime and never see beyond the glossy brochure of their wishful thinking. But not me. I recently returned to Gatlinburg and got a surprise my younger self could have never imagined. This is worth the wait. Turns out Hillbilly Golf is still in business. It's just like I remember it too. So finally, I rode up and saw for the first time the course of my dreams. Built right into the side of a mountain. And even though I'm not a great putter, not by a short shot, I can tell you after 18 holes of excitement and excuses, I sincerely believe my parents did me a favor. Delayed gratification beats instant every time. And saying no helps kids grow. Which is why when I got home and showed my kids pictures from the trip, Will you take us to Hillbilly Golf? I decided to give them something to look forward to. In 50 years. Steve Hartman, on the road in Gatlinburg, Tennessee.