I try to keep people happy. I go out of my way to get a smile.

Hear the words of Donald Dunn, the great musician of soul, who declared with humility and love: “I try to keep people happy. I go out of my way to get a smile. That’s the way my mother raised me.” In these simple lines lives a teaching older than kingdoms, older than song: that the truest legacy a parent can give is not riches nor fame, but the shaping of the heart toward kindness, joy, and the lifting of others.

To seek another’s happiness is no small labor. Many in this world strive first for their own gain, forgetting the faces around them. But Dunn speaks of going “out of my way”—of bending his path, of using his strength, not to gather more for himself, but to share the light of joy. This is an echo of the wisdom of the ancients, who taught that the highest form of greatness is not domination, but service. To bring a smile is to perform a miracle: to change the countenance of another, to turn sorrow into gladness, if only for a moment.

And he says, “That’s the way my mother raised me.” Here lies the root of the teaching: the soil in which virtue first grows is the family, the home, the nurture of those who love us when we are yet small. His mother, unnamed to history, is the hidden teacher behind his art and his kindness. In every culture, the wisdom of mothers has carried forth generations, not in proclamations or scrolls, but in gestures, values, and daily examples. Thus, Dunn’s words are not only about himself, but about the eternal lineage of mothers who raise their children to heal the world with gentleness.

The ancients, too, told such stories. Consider the Roman matron Cornelia, mother of the Gracchi brothers, who called her children her “jewels” and taught them the virtue of serving the people rather than hoarding gold. From her, their vision of justice was born. Or think of Augustine, who in his Confessions honored his mother Monica as the guiding light of his soul. In these examples, as in Dunn’s memory, we see that the seed of greatness often lies in the unseen shaping of a mother’s hand.

Yet this lesson is not only for those in fame, but for all. For what Dunn did with music—bringing joy, easing sorrow, helping others find their smile—each of us can do in our own sphere. The teacher in the classroom, the friend at the bedside, the stranger on the street: each has the power to “go out of their way” to bring light into another’s life. The smallest act of kindness can ripple like a song across hearts we may never know.

But there is also courage in such a path. To try to keep people happy is not always easy. Some hearts are hardened, some faces are closed, some burdens are too heavy to lift with a single note or a single smile. Yet the one who perseveres in joy, who does not cease offering kindness even when it is not returned, becomes a true bearer of peace. For joy, when lived sincerely, is a form of resilience against the darkness of the world.

Therefore, O listener, carry this teaching with you: do not wait for great opportunities to heal the world. Begin with a smile. Seek to bring happiness to those around you, even in the smallest of ways. Remember the unseen teachers—your mothers, your elders, your guides—who taught you kindness, and let their legacy continue through you. To keep people happy, to go out of your way to bring joy, is not weakness but strength, not folly but wisdom.

Thus Donald Dunn’s words, humble in tone, rise like a song of the ancients: that life’s truest music is not only played on strings and keys, but on the hearts of others. Let your life be such a melody, composed of smiles, carried on the breath of love, and remembered in the joy of all those you touch.