Saturday, September 30, 2006

The Love of a Grandmother

Years ago, shortly before my grandmother passed away, she decided to give her cassette tape collection to me along with a few other items. It was not a vast collection by any means, and I had very little interest in most of it due to not listening to cassettes anymore. None of our vehicles has a cassette player and cassette tapes are quickly going the way of 8 tracks, drive-in theaters, black and white television sets, and honest politicians (sorry, just had to throw that one in!). So it was with superficial gratitude (speaking of not being honest), that I graciously accepted the small collection and took it home.

My grandmother was a very intelligent, hard-working, classy lady with a special love of knowledge, Biblical ideals, and national politics. She could often be found watching CNN Senate proceedings with great interest and she always had an opinion on various politicians. In retrospect, I realize that with few exceptions she was right. She was also a Sunday school teacher, public speaker, artist, optimist (albeit rather narrow at times), and lover of her family.

As I began to go through the cassettes and to throw away most of it, I noticed several that were in their original wrapping. I also noticed several that had obviously been played continuously for years. I organized the tapes into two groups--the used and unused--and a fascinating truth began to emerge. The unused tapes were tapes that I and friends had given to her over the years. They were generally of great orchestras, great performers, and an occasional powerful and significant speech. The unused tapes had the most meaning to me and without a doubt the best sound and delivery.

The used tapes, however, contained family moments of church productions, Sunday School classes, instrumental solos of grandchildren, and even casual recordings of family gatherings. One tape in particular contained a recording of a solo I had sung in a church play when I was 10 or 12 years old. There is little doubt that this recording would make the top ten of the all-time worst recordings in the industry. The singing is poor, the sound quality poor, the style is poor, and the music itself is poor. Mysteriously, this tape was among the most used in the collection.

One of the items she gave me was a crooked, worthless star made out of cardboard and covered in tin foil. This star would be an embarrassment at a white elephant party. Its sole value might be in using the foil for a dish in the kitchen. It would be difficult to make a worse star than this one. But as I looked at this item, I recalled its place on the annual Christmas tree at her house. I recall as a child wondering why it was there and why my grandmother didn't go to the store and buy a better one. My brother had made that star and it was not very good. Why did she keep that star and why did she insist on listening to that tape?

There is no logical explanation. The head examines this conundrum and can come to no conclusion that makes any kind of cognitive sense whatsoever. Why embrace the bad and avoid the good? Why accept the unacceptable and ostensibly pursue that which is mediocre over the excellent? Was she devoid of high standards, of rational thinking, of awareness of quality?

No. She perhaps knew somewhere in the recesses of her brain that the singing and the music were inferior. She knew the star was crooked and cheap. She knew there were superior recordings within her reach and a better star down the road at the local store. She knew the professional recording of the speech delivered by the famous political figure was better than the Sunday School class lecture done by her family member. But for my grandmother, heart led the head and the truth was found in love.

For her the cheap recording of the speech was of the finest quality. The singing of the song by her grandson represented the standard of excellence, and for her the star was perfect. All these things were her family and nothing was greater. Perfection is found in imperfections. Love, joy, and goodness surround all of us. My grandmother found those ideals through her family. That flawed but perfect star in your life should rest at the top of your tree for all to see. Beauty and love are not found through rational thinking and cognitive application; beauty and love are in your heart. That imperfect song may indeed be the song of love in your life. Sing it loudly and sing it joyfully for few things in life are more perfect than the love of family.

"I love you Grandmother. Thanks for loving me and seeing beyond my many flaws."

Thursday, September 28, 2006

Sowing Seeds

"Oh, the Lord's been good to me.
And so I thank the Lord
For giving me the things I need:
The sun, the rain and the appleseed;
Oh, the Lord's been good to me."

I can still hear my Dad's voice as he played his guitar and sang to me. He would always tell the story of Johnny Appleseed and follow up with this little song. As a child, I heard this song on one level--a funny little man who went around the country planting appleseeds and resulting in lots of apple trees everywhere. My love for apples began at a young age and continues to today.

Similarly, although he passed away 7 years ago, my love for my Dad began at a young age and continues to today. His songs, his love for life, his eclectic, oft inconsistent philosophies, and his unpredictable but charming behavior not only left its mark on his wife and two children but also on thousands of students of all ages from elementary to adults. He did not leave apple seeds on the world, instead he sowed hope and love.

Some people leave bitterness, fear, suspicion, and anger with them wherever they go. Others leave joy, optimism, love, compassion, and hope. I propose that we are all Johnny Appleseeds leaving something of ourselves in the world. What do you sow and what do grow? As the journey of life continues, let us all sing a song of appleseeds and appletrees and let us all leave the world better than it was when we started.

We should give back and share what we have been given. Reach out to those in need and love the good in the world. Let us all be aesthetes as we work to make the world a better place.

Sunday, September 24, 2006

Why do we rejoice in human suffering?

The other night, I was up about 2 a.m. and wandering about the house checking doors and windows when I decided to participate in the favorite man pastime of flipping channels with the remote. As I went through the shows on how to lose 60 pounds in a week or how to make a million dollars in a week or examining the next great invention for the kitchen or the shop, I found myself wanting to see a movie. So I looked under the movie category and was dismayed to find a set of horror flicks guaranteed to set your mind spinning with fear as you watched blood and gore and death.

I forced myself to watch 10 minutes of a show about some students staying in cabins with a serial killer on the loose. During the 10 minute segment, I saw mutilation, hangings, a machete in a chest, decapitation, gunshots, and more blood than should ever reside in a person. I became sick and disgusted with the grotesque display of horror and destruction.

This viewing experience was on heels of having visited a local bookstore where a large percentage of bestselling paperbacks were about a serial killer or a murder of some kind. In addition, I overheard a conversation about a recent auto accident and all the details about the resulting pain. Are we as a society glorifying in human suffering?

Have we become cavalier about pain? Are we desensitized to the suffering around us? Is there really ever a time to rejoice over the pain of others? Is there really an excuse for inflicting suffering on another person? On the news we hear about bombs, and terrorist attacks, and exploding mines, and another soldier gone, and a madman on the loose, and we forget that for every death a mother's heart is broken. Because of connection and synchronicity, no death is an isolated event. If each life has any kind of meaning to someone, then that life has value and purpose.

Although some would call my position liberal and others might call it conservative, I call it humanistic. I cannot be comfortable watching horror, terror, or death in any form. I reject and denounce any kind of glorifying of human suffering. It is time to seek a more lofty and moralistic type of entertainment and experience. When I sit down to eat a meal, I prefer to avoid dirt, filth, infectious diseases, and animal waste. Instead, I seek to give my body the proper nutrients and necessary ingredients for good health with an occasional treat! When I sit down to watch a movie, I will not fill my head with images that are unproductive and despicable.

Saturday, September 23, 2006

Vertical Blind Night Terror

When I awoke, I was a vertical blind named Yak hanging among other vertical blinds that were named Johnny. All of them were named Johnny but my name was Yak and I couldn't understand why. It didn't seem fair to be named Yak and to be hanging alongside everyone else named Johnny.

I felt very tense and uncomfortable in my surroundings and did not know how to act as a vertical blind. Nobody had told me and I received no education for my role and purpose. While in some ways I wanted to be one of the guys, at the same time I wanted to hold on to my individuality. But there were several problems with retaining any semblance of independence. Several obstacles to uniqueness and several mountains to climb in order to self-actualize.

First of all, we all looked the same. We were shaped the same, the same color, the same length, the same creator, and the same purpose. Secondly, we were inanimate without any kind of human emotions and merely responsive to human interference and even then, completely at the will of someone else. We did not have any kind of rights to be individual. But as disturbing this concept was to me, it obviously had no effect on my other vertical blind compadres. They were content and even falsely euphoric in their happiness. Being devoid of any personal traits, they had become as one item divided into several parts. But the division did not separate them in any sense other than space. Their plasticity and their sterility was neither exaggerated nor minimized, and their appearance was so generic as to have little to no value.

Even worse, their happiness caused great opprobrium toward me. I was Yak and they were Johnny. I was the outsider and no matter how much effort they made, I could not change who I was. This created suspicion and fear in the expected way that all differences seem to instill fear in those who are the same. And, indeed, the fear was warranted, for I looked for ways to exert myself independently and somewhat selfishly. I was Yak and did not want to be Johnny.

And when we began the daily swing, I knew it was time to be myself. And we started the side to side swing that led to the front to back swing and I built up to the very moment when I could try once again to change the future and make the others swing my way.

And swing we did and all the Johnnys were happy until the moment of truth arrived and I went the other direction. The screams began and the terror rose out of their being as they begged me to stop. But I continued and as the minutes stretched into seconds, I made my move and cratered the entire vertical blind system through quick vertiginous actions. It all came crashing to an end amidst cries of grief, sorrow, and pain all due to my own improvident actions.

The silence that ensued was both comforting and deafening--providing a sense of solace and fate for I knew that it was all temporary. The cycle of said events would return soon in a never-ending loop of repetition. A broken record or a song without an ending or a symphony with no coda and only repeat signs.

I was Yak and all the others were Johnny. But it didn't really matter for the Johnnys would always win.

Tuesday, September 19, 2006

Emotions as a Discipline

Yes, it is true that I have a Ph.D. in Fine Arts with music as my chosen discipline. But there are moments when I question the study of music as an academic discipline. Other moments, however, when I question why music is not the core of all academic disciplines. Obviously both of these extremes cause raising of the eyebrows and concern from academia. Ultimately the question is not one of music but rather of emotions for music is at the center of emotions on many levels.

Although quite rare, I have met a few people with little emotional regard or responses to music. Yet upon close examination I usually conclude that their emotional side would be improved through exposure to music in any form. It has been studied and concluded that music educates and strengthens our emotions. Since emotions are directly connected to the intellect, it stands to reason that music can aid in cognitive development. This is known as the Mozart effect. Assessment and cognition tends to increase when listening to Mozart. But research has also concluded the Mozart effect is temporary without any lasting difference. Still, it is significant to note the improvement in brain responses when listening to certain kinds of music.

Conversely, it has also been documented that certain music can cause unwanted brain activity and violent emotions that tend to want further expression or action. This, however, is another topic for another day! For now, I want to posture the need to teach emotions as a discipline for study. We tend to skirt this topic or to educate emotions peripherally through music, art, psychology at times, student life experiences, literature, communications, and the general humanities kind of applications. Yet, maybe we should consider the need for more direct kinds of human emotions strengthening classes.

Obviously, college classes and college curriculum develop over a long period of time and although rather fluid in content are also concrete in learning outcomes. While culture can determine curriculum change, it currently calls for further study in what is deemed as the core knowledge needed for particular disciplines. In other words, we value factual knowledge and reject the nebulous and the abstract.

The error, however, that we seem to perpetuate, is to avoid dealing with the constant changes and complexity of human emotions, feelings, and attitudes that accompany all learning. It is our emotions that tend to govern our actions. Whether we like it or not, we must accept that cognition is improved through self-control and discipline.

All this to say, if you are having learning challenges, or conceptual understanding problems, perhaps you should take a moment to strengthen and develop your emotions through music, art, theatre, or literature. Govern, discipline, and understand your feelings and the other things will fall in place.

Emotions 101--the next great college course!

Saturday, September 16, 2006

My Life as a Bar of Soap or Wane not Wax

I want a short, productive life. Unlike the humans who use me and benefit from my immense talents, I am not interested in a long life. My two goals are to be used for cleaning and to disappear from the earth. I fulfill my purpose and my reason for existence by serving selflessly, holistically, comprehensively, and steadfastly through absolute and total commitment to destruction of me. I am a bar of soap and proud of it.

I was created by mixing sodium salts of fatty acids which were derived from fats and reacting them with an alkali in a process known as saponification. The fats are hydrolyzed by the base, yielding glycerol and crude soap. Refinement and a careful blend of oils give me the basic properties that result in who I am--a bar of soap!I like my life the way it is and enjoy making a difference.

But my heart always breaks over the two potentially awful things that can happen to me. One is to be ignored at the store and not be purchased. For to be ignored is to not be used. And not to be used breaks the code of soapdom. But almost as bad is to be purchased, used once, and then waste away in water day after day forgotten and never effected.

Yet when used regularly my purpose is so fulfilling. I make people clean and happy. But I have been threatened lately by so many new products on the shelf. Seems as though every time I turn around there is a new liquid product with a fancy name and an unusual color. But I suspicion that regardless of the latest cleansing agent that hits the market with a bang, ultimately people will prefer the tried and true--a good old fashioned bar of soap.

As I live out my brief but important life, I greatly anticipate my own demise and know that I serve a higher purpose--the sanitizing and destruction of dirt and germs. I strongly recommend to the readers that they contact my siblings and relatives for all of us want to be used, to dematerialize, to dissolve, to evaporate, to expire, to fade, to pass, to perish, and to dissipate. And now I must wax less and wane more.

The Creeps

There is disturbing though marvelous story by the Brother's Grimm of a boy who left home to find fear. He was unable to fear, unable to shudder, and had never experienced getting the creeps. In his traveling and his adventures, the boy continues to feel no fear over anything. Horror, fright, terror, and mishap are visited upon him, but to no avail. He cannot seem to ever summon from anywhere within the emotion of fear or the creeps. He does not know or understand the elements that cause fear and therefore is desensitized to the possibility. To shiver or shudder or quake over something is an unknown experience.

But at the end of the story, a bucket of wet minnows were poured all over him. He shuddered, and shivered and finally learned what the creeps were. He was thankful for this emotion and the story concludes rather humorously.

For Joel, autism has prevented him from having a natural acceptance of fear. His inclination is to be afraid of nothing and never experience the emotion of fear or the feeling of the creeps.

While it could be argued that many fears are learned fears either from socialization or from actual events, some fears no doubt are instinctual such as the fear of falling or getting run over or extreme heat or the danger of certain animals or even people. But for Joel, with his natural trust of all things and all people, he tends to rarely consider danger or even react with any kind of apprehension at all.

We have tried to teach Joel a healthy respect for animals, heights, heat, cold, and traffic. Over the years, we have wondered what would make Joel shudder, shake, tremble, or have trepidation. What would give Joel the creeps. So I asked him if I threw worms all over his body, how he would react. He found that to be very amusing (a positive emotion that we are glad he experiences) and said "I would say please remove the worms from my body, thank you." Unlike our protagonist in the Grimm Fairy Tale, Joel would not get the creeps from slithery, slimy creatures all over him.

Of course, it has all been rather funny and enjoyable, but it does point to the constant need for education and responses to stimuli. Joel's quest to find the creeps is not led by himself but rather by us. In the end, who would want the creeps anyway!

The Cry for Help

What parent would turn down a cry for help from a son or daughter? The answer is easy: no parent. When your child needs you, you are there for them. At times you might make the decision to delay the help as a teaching tool or to encourage self-reliance or individual choice; yet in the end, you provide the love and support needed.

Joel, however, has an unusual support base in his cry for help. Joel is fortunate to have two brothers who look out for him, two brothers who guide him, two brothers who love him, and help him. His older brother, Jacob, balances the need to teach Joel independence while also offering him appropriate help when necessary. Jacob always drops what he is doing to listen to Joel, and is very quick to take him places, talk to him, and help him with homework. Jacob is consistently patient with Joel and dedicated to providing him with a warm loving brotherly environment. Not that Jacob is always easy on Joel. Jacob works to teach him independence, appropriate behavior, conversational ease, priorities, and time management. Jacob recognizes the vast influence he has over Joel and uses that knowledge in a multitude of positive ways.

Jordan has had a little rougher time adjusting to having an autistic brother. Joel towers above him and until recently has been stronger and faster than Jordan. And Jordan has viewed autism as primarily a behavioral issue rather than a neurological, sociological, and educational one. Although Joel wants to spend time with Jordan, he does not know how to play normal games or have normal conversations which then results in a type of pestering behavior that is annoying and irritating. Yet, as Jordan continues to mature physically and emotionally, he finds himself in a position of helping, guiding, and mentoring Joel. Jordan’s inherent creativity finds fruition in developing alternative means of communication and brotherly activities. It is always a joy to see Joel and Jordan interacting in a multitude of positive ways.

All three brothers are very protective of each other in all situations. Jacob and Jordan are always watching out for Joel and insuring that people treat him well and that he is not creating any kind of problem for himself. I always smile when I see a glare from Jacob toward anyone giving the appearance of not treating Joel well. The boys have an unusual bond that can be attributed to living under an umbrella of love and trust and dealing with the constant challenges of autism. Their love and patience with Joel is evident at home, at church, at school, and at social situations. With this patience and understanding has come a strong compassionate altruism for those less fortunate and for those with learning problems.

The cry for help from Joel is answered by his brothers through their devoted attention to his development. But ironically, the ultimate help once again is Joel helping them. For in their work to offer Joel patience, love, trust, and guidance, they inadvertently grow in character and substance. The intertwining of lives through selfless giving to those in need, is mutually beneficial to everyone. Jacob and Jordan are better people because of Joel, and Joel is fortunate to have two of the greatest brothers a person could ever have.

Sunday, September 10, 2006

De-tailed but not Limited

We have a kitten without a tail. She went out into the wilds with her mother, brother, and sister and returned a few days later tail-less. We don’t know if a wild dog took it, or a raccoon, or a buzzard, or if she simply got it stuck in something. It is rather odd looking and somewhat pitiful, striking a chord of sympathy as we look at her and feel for her in her plight and her handicap. She is not normal and therefore cannot live the normal life of a cat that God intended for her. She is doomed to live in abject misery, never being capable of enjoying a full carefree existence that is normally expected of a cat. This pathetic creature has little to no value and cannot fulfill its purpose or ever have any degree of happiness.

But wait, is this really true? Yesterday as I watched our kittens I noticed that playful spirit that often accompanies beings as they grow up and discover different abilities. Each kitten had found the ability to jump, to twist, to catch insects, and to toss objects in the air. All three had found a Kleenex and enjoyed throwing it in the air and catching it only to have it tear in two pieces which they delighted in adding to the fun. Each kitten could jump onto a chair, spring onto a window ledge and capture an insect crawling on the window and each kitten could run fast, hide in the grass, only to surprise another cat happening by.

Our little kitten without a tail was happy. She was not limited in any way and she seemed to enjoy the same carefree existence as her brother and her sister. Her running and jumping style were different, not worse, just different. She appeared to be slightly awkward at times and had made several adjustments to accommodate her differences but those accommodations were not limiting but instead were simply unique to her.

She is not handicapped by her handicap but instead seems unaware of the problem. She has adjusted positively and is able to do all the things cats can do and is not hampered by her missing tail.

I have not met a perfect person in my life. All of us feel as though there is something about us that is missing or wrong or imperfect. We can wake up each day and focus on our weaknesses, our problems, our challenges, and our limits. Or we can view ourselves as capable, valuable human beings with something positive to offer the world. Don’t allow your limits to limit you. Joel’s autism is a handicap for many things but he does not see himself as handicapped. He is happy and enjoys a productive and energetic existence.

Joel does not wake up and think to himself “I am autistic and therefore incapable of many things.” He wakes up each day with joy in his heart (once he is dressed and fed!) and is not thwarted by his challenges but rather uses his many special gifts to make the world a better place.

Saturday, September 09, 2006

Medical Perception

I recently attended a large conference on Autism. In attendance were over 2000 people ranging from physicians, diagnosticians, counselors, psychologists, parents, teachers, and administrators. There were also many exhibits from various companies and organizations demonstrating the vast array of resources available to schools and parents to help with autism. Although much of it deals with awareness, some of it is also practical application and recommendations for reaching autistic students.

In one notable session, a well-known physician detailed the many different treatments for autism and discussed the various tests often administered by experts to determine the level of autism in a child. He explained the secretin "miracle cure," the gamma-globulin cure, the auditory awareness system, the benefits of vitamins, and discussed the advantages and disadvantages of blood tests, IQ tests, behavioral tests, and personality profiling tests. He mentioned that while all tests can reveal certain kinds of weaknesses, there is really only one fool-proof test that is always correct--a mother's opinion.

A test is designed to discern the areas that are outside the norms. Averages are determined through years of study and are at best simply general ideas that have limited value in labeling or prescribing the future for a child. Instead, this particular physician has found that the instincts and perception of a mother are right and should always be given consideration.

Those pervicacious physicians who solely rely on so-called empirical evidence may need to rethink their position and seek after the person who knows the child best--the mother. The mother is always right and while she may or may not have the medical or scientific background necessary to provide definitive scholarly application, her perceptions of her child are correct and should be honored.

In the case of our son Joel, I am reminded to trust the instincts of Joel's mother for nothing is greater, more personal and more special than the love and attention of a mother to her children. For Joel, he is fortunate to have the unconditional and devoted concern of his mother.

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

Impartial Teaching

Having been a teacher throughout my career and having taught all ages from small children to senior adults, I suddenly realized the possible partiality to which I just may have subjected my students for many years. Although no teacher means to judge students on the basis of their appearance, it is probably an inevitable consequence of living in a visually oriented society.

Ideally a teacher should by virtue of his or her calling simply teach the subject matter to which he has been assigned regardless of the people in the class. A first grade teacher is asked to teach all the students to read and to grasp fundamental math concepts, and the high school teacher may be asked to teach literature or history. The subject matter becomes the focal point and the delivery is professional, thorough, and objective. But in fact, is it?

How many times have we responded to the individuals in front of us? How often do we unfairly judge the student with excessive tattoos or unkempt clothing or bad hair or drawn appearance? How many times have we catered to the extroverted student on the front row with her hand in the air on every question? Research says humans tend to react to tall people quicker than short people. Do teachers do the same thing? I believe so.

What kind of teaching style would we have if we brought no preconceived ideas of what good students should look like? Would we present the information differently? Would our style be more encompassing and perhaps reach more people by being impartial and universal?

I have the opportunity to find out as I teach my first online course. In the chat room I do not know who is tall, short, ugly, pretty, well-groomed, unkempt, well-dressed, mean, nice, interested, or dull. I get the opportunity to assume all are eager, intelligent, mannerly, prepared, and presentable. In other words, I get the opportunity to teach the subject and the students can learn without fear of any partiality or judgment.

The grade is determined through objectivity and participation in on-line discussions. I am anticipating the next few weeks of impartial teaching and educational delivery. This is a new frontier for me. A land of adventure and I relish the opportunity to explore and discover the joys of online teaching.

Monday, September 04, 2006

Work and Play on Labor Day

When work and play meld together the result is productivity and enjoyment. I am often criticized for being a workaholic--someone who can't seem to relax and enjoy life. A man who is constantly on a quest for improvement and a man who sacrifices joy and replaces it with work. We hear about such people and we read stories of men who pursued excellence while giving up time for the ones they love.

But I am not convinced this adequately describes me. I love my family and love being with them. All my boys mean so much to me and I relish every moment with my wife. At the same time, like most men, I find meaning in my work and in accomplishing tasks. Unlike many, however, I find little difference between work and play. I play by working and I work by playing so that the two become as one.

Fishing is play and is fun, but I also find fishing to be hard work at times. Anyone who thinks fishing is all fun and play has not had to clean a mess of catfish at the end of the day. And anytime you own a boat, hard work is inevitable. The rewards from the work are the moments of relaxation and demonstration of the fruit of your labors.

Typing this blog is a melding of work and play for to type is a form of work and to think is a type of work but I also receive great pleasure from the experience thereby making it a form of play. When children play on the playground, they are working and when a mother decorates for a birthday party, she is playing while working. Now granted there are times when work is not play such as cleaning the house or plowing the field or setting up a fence. But the more "play" we put into the work, the better the work.

"The master in the art of living makes little distinction between his work and his play, his labor and his leisure, his mind and his body, his information and his recreation, his life and his religion. He hardly knows which is which. He simply pursues his vision of excellence at whatever he does, leaving others to decide whether he is working or playing. To him, he is always doing both"—James A. Michener.

I have the fortune of enjoying my work and playing while working. This is not unusual for a musician but it can be unusual in other professions. Yet, it seems to me, that we should respect work and respect play and try to blend the two together for greater productivity. I have rarely (maybe never) been told to "work harder," but I have been told to play more. So I respond with this admonishment, "I play as I work" and I love what I do. All time is valuable--time at work, time at home, and time with friends. So on this Labor Day, I work, I relax, I play, and most of all I treasure the moments to spend melding it all together with family and friends.

Sunday, September 03, 2006

Birthday Madness

Friday, September 1 was my and my oldest son's birthday. I am now 46 years of age and he is 20. I recall the day he was born and consider it one of the best birthday presents a man could ever have. Jacob is a shining star in my life and always will be.

Yet, for many years, I have not wanted to celebrate my birthday given that it seems to me that it is just simply another day gone by. This year was a Friday and next year will be a Saturday--both man made terms to codify the 24 hour clock and 7 day week in which we reside. There is really nothing special about the day--the sun comes up, we eat, we work, we play, the sun goes down, and we sleep. Although a rather cynical view, in the end my insouciant attitude toward birthdays was often met with confutation and even disgust. I refused to be part of the madness but in my efforts to avoid it, I was the loser. For in the madness is found joy, and in the madness is hope, and in the madness is life.

The problem, I now realize, is that I was denying others the right to treat me with kindness and deference. Of course, one could argue that we should always treat people with respect and we should always attempt to honor others for to serve is the greatest gift we have been given. And yet, pragmatically speaking, it is impossible to treat every person we encounter as though it is his or her birthday. So we simply wait for that opportunity to extend warmth and kindness to someone who means something to us.

I was the recipient of the birthday madness, but aside from the once a year birthday thing to family members, I have rarely been the giver. But is it that hard to give, to acknowledge another person's special day, to revel in their happiness, and to rejoice in their life? It shouldn't be hard and in fact should be something that we anticipate.

And so I have decided to set aside my cynicism and sarcasm about birthdays and become a part of the madness. A madness that includes cards, balloons, cakes, gifts, smiles, joy, sharing, and honoring. In truth it seems that we so rarely have a special day--why not enjoy it? I might even try imagining that every person I meet tomorrow is experiencing a birthday! Maybe it will remove the selfishness that is inherent in me and help me reach out in thoughtfulness to other people.

Thank you to all my family and friends who wished me a happy birthday. You made my day special as I hope to make yours. Each of you make the world a better place through selfless acts of kindness. It is time for me to do the same.