On special occassions

The last time I celebrated a birthday I was 10 years old. People have since asked me if I miss it, is my life boring, do I not receive or give gifts, how can I live a year without having one day of that year designated as special for me? And I’ll tell you honestly, I have not for one day missed it. I could tell you that I don’t enjoy ‘worldly’ so-called “special occasions” because of my religious beliefs, but that’s not the truth. I have in the last week, the week since turning thirty, further cemented my reasons for disliking these kinds of things.

A few years ago, in the week after the Christmas holidays, I found myself in a very interesting scenario while waiting in line at a bank. The bank had been closed a few days over the holidays so I figure that’s why it was particularly popular when it reopened. Tinsel, Christmas trees, coloured lights, and all sorts of Christmas paraphernalia were still around everywhere. Of course, in the week prior to this event the shops had been full of people buying things for others, songs about gifts and Santa (or Jesus), and huge banners reading things about “peace”, “love”, “goodwill”, “sharing”, the goodness of the human (or Christmas) spirit, etc., etc. The atmosphere had been set to inspire the best of humanity, albeit an atmosphere set up by commercial enterprises under the guise of being just a good concept, a religious tradition, a familial tradition, or a combination of any of those things… but I’m digressing.

So, as I waited in line at the bank, an argument broke out between two of the people waiting in line in front of me. I don’t even recall what the argument was about, but it was between a woman who looked to be in her 40s and a man of around 70. It was clear they were strangers to each others and pretty soon they were shouting, calling each other derogative and obscene names, and threatening violence towards each other. The rest of us in the bank stood stunned watching this scene. It continued until the old man said to the woman “Well, merry christmas to you, too”. His words pierced me very deeply because (to me, at lease) it highlighted the irony and hypocrisy of these special occasions.

You know what we do on special occasions? We give gifts. Gifts of our time, effort, material things, courtesy, respect, congratulation, thoughtful gesture, unselfish sacrifice. It’s wonderful to give these things – and to receive them! But… but, that’s exactly what breaks my heart about it. Is that all I’m worth? One day out of every 365? And it’s often not out of the ‘goodness of anyone’s heart’, but rather only because some external party has decided that a particular day constitutes a special occasion. Don’t get me wrong, though, I appreciate the good wishes as much as anyone else, I just can’t deny that some of it feels like tokenism. And you know what I wish most for in the world for my birthday, for Christmas, for Easter, for labour day, for Monday through to Sunday, January through to December? The essential things we all desire of each other every day: love, attention, respect, a smile, a minute of your time, and to know that I’m actually worthy of these things more than one day a year from those that mean a lot to me.

Thanks for your time, guys.