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capri0mniI already posted this in ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
pro_fun, but you have to be a member to see it there, and I wanted to share it with a wider group of people. I got an email back from the editor of the Art Garden, and she wants me to consider submitting it to a magazine or newspaper, so I'm "woo-hoo"ing on the inside.
We could always tell which old family pictures the taken at my birthday because I'd be in pajamas, and there'd be a box of Kleenex in the foreground (ah, the joys of a birthday in the deep midwinter). It got better. For my tenth, my parents took some friends and me to the American Museum of Natural History, to see the dinosaurs. And then, there was my nineteenth. Two teachers "borrowed" me from a writing class and escorted me down the hall to the nursery school, where my health was toasted by a room full of four-year olds.
The birthday parties that made the deepest impression, however, were not for me. They each took place a few tables away at a restaurant. The restaurants' names, décor and menus were all different, of course, and those details have sifted out of my memory. But other things were always the same. Conversations would be interrupted by the familiar strains of "Happy Birthday to you!" and all the customers would join in, as a gaggle of waiters made their way down the aisle toward the guest of honor with a candlelit desert. Many would applaud when the song was over. And then, we'd return our attention to our own dinners and lives.
That doesn't happen as much, these days. Restaurant owners, aware that "Happy Birthday" is a copyrighted song, teach their waiters to hail the guest of honor with a peppy chant that no one's heard before. Still, the phrase "Happy Birthday" is in there somewhere, and if you watch those within earshot, you'll see the hint of a smile move across their faces.
I call it "The Birthday Effect.." When we learn that it is someone's birthday, we'll wish them a happy one. It doesn't matter if the person is a stranger. And we don't need proof that our good wishes are deserved. Even people who dread their own birthdays, either because they fear the future or regret the past, will wish 'many happy returns' to someone else.
I don't know why this happens. Perhaps it's because birthdays are like holidays, and by saying "Happy Birthday," we get to take part in the celebration, if only for a moment. Maybe it helps us remember those times when others wished us a happy birthday. Maybe it's just being polite. Maybe it's for all of these reasons.
But whatever the reason, one thing is undeniable: it is always someone's birthday -- for at least one out of every three hundred and sixty-five people. At first, it may seem like pretty slim odds that you'll actually meet one of them -- until you consider how many people you see in a day. There is, roughly, a one in five chance that someone in this theater is celebrating a birthday tonight. Now, I'm neither a statistician nor a demographer, but it wouldn't surprise me if, after you factor in all the people you've seen today - maybe standing in line with you at the grocery store, or driving beside you on the roads -- the following statement were true: "You crossed a birthday person's path today."
And so, I'd like to leave you with the following bit of advice: treat all the people you meet as if you know for certain they're celebrating a birthday. Don't worry if the person is a stranger, or whether they deserve it. Do it to take part in a celebration, or in memory of kindnesses others have shown you. If nothing else, do it to be polite. You don't have to burst into song, or give them a card. Just let the hint of a smile move across your face, and wish them many happy returns.
True, the chances are, most of the people you meet will not be celebrating a birthday. But the chances are also pretty good that at least one person will be.
And maybe, just maybe, you'll get invited to the party.
This is, of course, a rough draft. I'm already finding ways to tweak it, and sharpen it up... but this is pretty durn close to what I'll be saying.
pro_fun, but you have to be a member to see it there, and I wanted to share it with a wider group of people. I got an email back from the editor of the Art Garden, and she wants me to consider submitting it to a magazine or newspaper, so I'm "woo-hoo"ing on the inside. We could always tell which old family pictures the taken at my birthday because I'd be in pajamas, and there'd be a box of Kleenex in the foreground (ah, the joys of a birthday in the deep midwinter). It got better. For my tenth, my parents took some friends and me to the American Museum of Natural History, to see the dinosaurs. And then, there was my nineteenth. Two teachers "borrowed" me from a writing class and escorted me down the hall to the nursery school, where my health was toasted by a room full of four-year olds.
The birthday parties that made the deepest impression, however, were not for me. They each took place a few tables away at a restaurant. The restaurants' names, décor and menus were all different, of course, and those details have sifted out of my memory. But other things were always the same. Conversations would be interrupted by the familiar strains of "Happy Birthday to you!" and all the customers would join in, as a gaggle of waiters made their way down the aisle toward the guest of honor with a candlelit desert. Many would applaud when the song was over. And then, we'd return our attention to our own dinners and lives.
That doesn't happen as much, these days. Restaurant owners, aware that "Happy Birthday" is a copyrighted song, teach their waiters to hail the guest of honor with a peppy chant that no one's heard before. Still, the phrase "Happy Birthday" is in there somewhere, and if you watch those within earshot, you'll see the hint of a smile move across their faces.
I call it "The Birthday Effect.." When we learn that it is someone's birthday, we'll wish them a happy one. It doesn't matter if the person is a stranger. And we don't need proof that our good wishes are deserved. Even people who dread their own birthdays, either because they fear the future or regret the past, will wish 'many happy returns' to someone else.
I don't know why this happens. Perhaps it's because birthdays are like holidays, and by saying "Happy Birthday," we get to take part in the celebration, if only for a moment. Maybe it helps us remember those times when others wished us a happy birthday. Maybe it's just being polite. Maybe it's for all of these reasons.
But whatever the reason, one thing is undeniable: it is always someone's birthday -- for at least one out of every three hundred and sixty-five people. At first, it may seem like pretty slim odds that you'll actually meet one of them -- until you consider how many people you see in a day. There is, roughly, a one in five chance that someone in this theater is celebrating a birthday tonight. Now, I'm neither a statistician nor a demographer, but it wouldn't surprise me if, after you factor in all the people you've seen today - maybe standing in line with you at the grocery store, or driving beside you on the roads -- the following statement were true: "You crossed a birthday person's path today."
And so, I'd like to leave you with the following bit of advice: treat all the people you meet as if you know for certain they're celebrating a birthday. Don't worry if the person is a stranger, or whether they deserve it. Do it to take part in a celebration, or in memory of kindnesses others have shown you. If nothing else, do it to be polite. You don't have to burst into song, or give them a card. Just let the hint of a smile move across your face, and wish them many happy returns.
True, the chances are, most of the people you meet will not be celebrating a birthday. But the chances are also pretty good that at least one person will be.
And maybe, just maybe, you'll get invited to the party.
This is, of course, a rough draft. I'm already finding ways to tweak it, and sharpen it up... but this is pretty durn close to what I'll be saying.
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Bravo! Bravo!!
Date: 2003-11-13 12:13 am (UTC)Of course, if that's not how it's meant, well... it's how *I* took it. LOL
:)
~Becky
thank you
Date: 2003-11-13 04:41 am (UTC)Mostly, I think, how we behave toward someone at his or her birthday is a reminder how generous we all can be, if we give ourselves the chance. And if we can be that generous sometimes, why not all the time?
I told my aide what my essay was about, saying that it centered around birthdays in restaurants, and she answered: "Oh, I hate that! None of the waiters really want to do it, so their singing is lack-luster, and embarrassing." She is more of a cynic than I am, but even she would rather the birthday guest get enthusiastic cheer.
I give out lots of advice. I don't always take it. This is one bit of advice that I do try to follow each day. It was first given to me by that little troll at the top of the page. She never leaves the house without her birthday hat! ;o)
(Though, to be fair, although I don't need proof that someone does deserve that kindness, if they give me evidence that they don't, either by abusing me or taking advantage of me, they'll see my brunt side.)