2001-09-08 (Saturday) - 4:01 p.m.

Last night was a really good night for me. I could talk about the really lame bars I was at in the Wrigleyville section of Chicago. I could talk about the "lame white motherfuckers" -to borrow a phrase from George Carlin- who populate such places and how a small portion of the men in this group feel they have the right to dance with any woman they want. I could talk about the reggae bar, named the Wild Haire, I attended with friends that was really a "reggae bar." I could talk about the woman I saw who could move her hips in the most impressive of manners. I could even talk about much fun it is to hang out with friends and to dance. I could talk about how I need times like these to reassure myself that my life is worth living. I could talk about all of those things but they don't really as matter as much as something else that last night I learned again.

Anybody who knows me -and, to a lesser extent, even readers of this log- knows how much I dislike myself as a person and that there are few people who complain about life as much as I do. Oftentimes it gets difficult for me to realize that there are other people who live lives that are worse, or at least less enjoyable, than mine.

Yesterday was the birthday of a person that I work with at The Chicago Reporter. For over a week she had been asking people if they wanted to go out dancing for her birthday. Although it might some conceited for me to say this and that is reason that I am not using a name here, it was clear that this woman really wanted to be amongst friends for her birthday and that we were the only people fitting the bill.

Everyone agreed that we should do something for this person who I do care about immensely but planning was none the less laxidasical. It wasn't till the last minute that we got all the details -including a couple of butterfly gifts for this woman who loves butterflies- of the "surprise party" -the guest of honor knew very well that it was going to happen- that happened after work. We munched on popcorn and danced to Madonna songs for about an hour before we headed out for the evening.

The evening was great but what was really cool was just how much the woman enjoyed the festivities. She had a smile on her face almost the entire evening and that truly was special. More than once she said that it had been a "great birthday."

As all of this was going on, I couldn't help but think of how lucky I have been to spend every birthday of my life with friends and loved ones. As much as I wish could sometimes, it is of course impossible for me to just give the positive aspects of my life to other people. I can't shield them from "the pain that living brings" -to borrow a phrase from Bruce Springsteen- or make them successful or happy in the long term but like all people I can, sometimes alone and sometimes with others- to bring a smile to their face and a bit of joy to their heart. For reasons that basically boil down to cajoling from my father, was actively involved in the Boy Scouts for roughly five years while in grade, middle and high schools. One of the mantras of Scouts was "Do a Good Turn Daily." I hated Scouts and so I looked at this phrase as nothing more than a dogma of a militarist organization than was founded by a courageous colonizer. Now I can see that the urging to do a good turn was one of the best things about Boy Scouts.

Not only can I do good turns but I need to do them more often.

email me if you care to,
micah

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