The restored barn perched on the hilltop overlooking the Ohio River. Piles of leaves swirled around the base of bare-armed trees. Although almost the end of November, the bright blue sky and crisp air still spoke of Autumn. I noticed what appeared to be a bronze historical marker nailed to the side of the door. “On this site in 1897, nothing happened." Nothing happened! What a hoot. Call it a “hysterical marker”. Sure is in keeping with my college roommate’s sense of humor when she turned the 1941 ramshackle house into a great sprawling home. How refreshing that marker is: Nothing happened. Remember those days when it was just that—a day that proceeded in uneventful, unnoticed calm. How is it that our society seems to have far too many folks caught up in trying to make something happen? We’ve got parents who pretend their child has floated away in a hot-air balloon all for the sake of getting on a TV show. Woefully untalented young adults vie to become an American Idol. Spouses degrade their relationships for the sake of swapping wives. Thousands follow Britney twitters in a frenzy that seems to say their individual lives can be compensated by following inane rock star patter. Maybe in all this craziness, we should have a day devoted to making NOTHING happen. Let’s just go about our business. Showing up in the moment, not checking off goal sheets, sales tallies, and how many friends we have on Facebook. For one day, we will just breath, sleep, eat, do what we can until our mind or body says rest. We will absolutely be vanilla, bland, unnoticed and forgettable. As counter-intuitive as it might appear, I think a day like this might just turn our head around, take the notoriety-urge down a notch. I’m thinking of celebrating this weekend with a “make nothing happen” day. How about you? You might be grateful you did.