Another birthday has come and gone and my modest number of social media friends may or may not have noticed that I did not request that they make a contribution to any specific charity in honor of my humble occasion.
Not that I have a single thing against those who make such requests, because I certainly don’t; I just can’t get my arms around that trend when it comes to making one of my own.
I do think it would be a great thing, though, for anyone, anywhere, to make a contribution on any given day to any of the great causes that exist out there. Just do it on your own time, for your own cause and in your own name, or any other name you may choose, which can be a gratifying thing to do. Who knows, maybe your choice will be aligned with one of mine and all will be right in the world for a fleeting moment.
Not that you need my permission to do any of that, as if you would ever think you did, which we all know you wouldn’t, or at least should.
If I had the talent, I might be more inclined to make the world brighter for a moment by going the opposite direction, with comic relief in the style of our ol’ departed friend, Gerald Stephens.
It was on his 93rd birthday that our coffee group toasted him, and I had the foresight to catch the moment digitally. (Can’t accurately say “on video” these days, can we?) I have it floating around out there somewhere in cyberspace if you want to renew your belly laugh lease, but here are the words he spoke on the subject of growing older and what comes with it:
“A lot of privileges,” he said. “People hold the door open for you. Stuff like that. But hardly ever give you any money. (Pause.) Maybe I ought to start asking for it. Wanna be so nice, give me a little money!”
For those who also knew him, obedience comes easy when I ask for trust in the statement that it is enormously more funny to see and hear him say such things than to read the words.
He remained as witty and entertaining all the way through his final birthday — 99.
So, for my birthday, your birthday or any day which happens to be someone’s birthday (which, if you’re slow to the draw, is any day of the year), it would be fine with me if you honored “Steve” by sending him some money through any charity of your choice. I’m sure he will let us know in some fashion if it actually reaches him, which probably will be at mixing time (5 p.m.) or in the 19th hole of one of heaven’s better golf courses.
Not that you need my permission to do that, as if you would ever think you did, which we all know you wouldn’t, or at least should.
Dave Berry is the former BH-FP editor and publisher and now carries the fancy has-been label of “emeritus.” Please direct any complaints or other direct communication with him to email@example.com. As always, the people who actually work here deserve to not be bothered by any of his weekly and weakly distractions or disruptions.