A Little Birdie Told Me

Birds are graceful, colorful and for the most part fragile. They are prey to a host of predators and their nests are exposed to the elements. Their young, once hatched, depend helplessly on their parents for food and protection. Many die before they learn to fly. And yet…they are opinionated and outspoken. And they have guts. How else would I explain the audacity of a small bird to express what so many of us are thinking in the most notable way?

Of course, you watched the news. Of course, you saw the snippet of our fearless leader, as he explained how many more soldiers he wanted to feed into the war machine. And, like all of us, you grumbled to yourself, fearful of speaking up, afraid of showing your true colors. You never know who’s watching! You’ve heard it before: the government has official permission to spy on your conversations.

Yet in the middle of the presidential speech, someone did speak up. Someone small and insignificant, who cared little for camera time and didn’t stick around to take a bow. Someone, unable to speak a word of English, or Spanish, or any other human language, yet managed to get the message across just fine. And you laughed and cheered, didn’t you? You clapped your hands and stomped your feet with glee when the birdie flew by and left a deposit on the President’s coat sleeve, expressing openly and odorously what at least half of America would like to say: Poo on you and your crazy war!

Birds are graceful, colorful and often fragile. We knew that. But they may speak up unexpectedly and unmistakably. And they may express our political dissatisfaction in a most direct and discourteous fashion, impatient perhaps with our silence, and unerringly show us the way.

Be silent no more, promoter of peace! A bird has spoken…

The Day After

I am smiling today. My mind is filled with wonderful memories my friends placed there last night. I hear laughter and music and fragments of conversations thrown lightly into the air. I see glowing faces and sparkling eyes, hair tossed back or blown from smooth foreheads. Jokes and quips echo in my mind, as I reconstruct the evening. I am at ease.

Celebrations are good for us. They refresh us and bring back a sense of play, reminiscent of childhood. And they feed our souls long after the party is over. Today, I will work joyfully, stopping from time to time to savor a memory. Thoughts and ideas will flow freely, as I remember my friends.

What makes celebrations so special? What makes them memorable? What distinguishes them from ordinary days, ordinary moments, ordinary events? I believe they bring us a sense of wonderment, maybe even an inkling of the unreal. How can we make this magic happen more often in our lives?

Celebrations can be planned or spontaneous, but they always require a certain amount of organization. We want harmony, so we carefully hand-pick the participants and we may exclude ‘Uncle Jake’ or ‘Aunt Rita’ if their energy doesn’t merge well with the group. If Caroline feels ‘under the weather’ today and wishes to exclude herself, we understand. If Frank feels out of sorts without his Significant Other, we may allow her participation, in order to placate the party spirits.

We choose a location that allows us to remain undisturbed and doesn’t create trouble with outsiders. We also prefer an atmosphere where conversation is possible and direct interaction is encouraged. A Videogame night does not qualify, but a Superbowl afternoon may, depending on circumstances.

We make sure that participants feel relaxed, unhurried and safe. A bit of alcohol may ease transition from work week to celebratory time, but too much alcohol may be counterproductive, as tempers may flare or misunderstandings may abound. Once the setting is achieved, we just let things happen, trusting in the supportive environment and the good mood of the celebrants.

Lastly, we create memories. We snap pictures, save bottle corks, remember game scores and conversations. And we laugh. And when the party is over, we leave joyfully, knowing that we’ll remember and that our days ahead will be brightened for a while. And on the Day After, hopefully, we’ll have more than just a hangover to commemorate the occasion. I know I do. My friends live deep in my heart and I’ll keep the magic alive until next time. I am smiling today. All is well.