Some people look at their lives and wonder whether they have done anything that truly matters. They haven’t discovered a cure for cancer or helped bring us closer to one. They haven’t rescued people from burning buildings or become wealthy enough to give millions to charity. They haven’t written a book that inspired millions or created a work of art appreciated by the masses.
When those are the examples we use to measure a meaningful life, it’s easy to conclude that our own contributions are too small to count.
I’ve caught myself thinking that way about my animated comedy shorts. Sometimes I don’t even take my own work all that seriously. It’s entertainment. A quick video that might, if I’m lucky, get a quick laugh before someone moves on to the next thing.
Then, every now and then, someone tells me what one of those videos meant to them.
People have told me how much they enjoy my work and urged me to never stop making it. Some have said they were in a bad mood until they saw one of my shorts, and it made them feel better. Once, someone told me that a friend of theirs was my biggest fan. At the time, I hadn’t even realized I had fans.
Another person told me that one of my shorts made them laugh, so they shared it with their family. I stopped and thought about that. I had created something that gave a family a chance to share a laugh and a happy moment together.
It reminded me of the summers I spent at my grandparents’ house. My grandfather and I used to watch reruns of The Honeymooners. We would sit there, just the two of us, enjoying the episodes and laughing together. Those are some of my fondest memories of him. The show gave us something to enjoy together, and all these years later, I still remember how it felt to sit beside him and laugh.
Somehow, I had forgotten that comedy could do that. I thought of my shorts as little bits of entertainment, yet someone had taken one and shared it with the people they loved. I don’t know whether they’ll remember that particular laugh years from now. But for a moment, they enjoyed something together, and I was glad to have played a part in it.
And this goes far beyond creative work. Plenty of people go to an ordinary job every day and assume they aren’t having much impact on the world. But what do they do when they come home? Are they raising children to be kind, decent people? That is a contribution whose effects can reach further than they will ever see.
Maybe they volunteer, donate what they can, or help a neighbor. Maybe they’re the cheerful person at work who makes a hard day easier for everyone around them. Maybe they offered useful advice to someone who was struggling, or gave a stranger a little encouragement at exactly the right time.
Most of us do things like that without giving them much thought. We may never hear what happened afterward. The person we encouraged might go on to encourage someone else. A child might remember an example we set years earlier. A small act of kindness might have mattered far more to someone than we realized.
It’s good to be humble. But we can become so dismissive of our own efforts that we start to believe nothing we do measures up. If you believe that long enough, you may stop trying. You may decide there’s no point in making the video, offering the help, or saying the encouraging words.
Please don’t let that happen.
I’m going to keep making shorts that I hope will make people laugh. I may never know what each one does for the person who watches it. Sometimes, though, someone tells me—and I remember why I make them.
You don’t have to reach millions of people for what you do to matter. Take pleasure in doing some good for the people you can reach. And when someone tells you that you made their day better, believe them. Now go make someone laugh.
Bob Craypoe
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