This morning, I put on Happy Birthday socks from Granny. I wished I had remembered them for her birthday last week, but still felt good wearing them.
I have a strict personal rule of not giving money to people begging for money. I had been taught that it was much better to give money to charities. People could get the help they needed there, and I could be sure my money was helping someone who actually needed help, and not encouraging a public nuisance. Besides, strangers can be dangerous. Especially to children, but I had kept this rule into adulthood, since it kept things simple and seemed to make sense. Several friends had been conned out of large amounts of money by strangers with sob stories, or been physically threatened. I often remember getting followed down a dark Chicago street by someone with an increasingly fantastical sob story, who asked to go to an ATM when I pretended I didn’t have cash. Was I lucky to escape violence then? Based on several people’s advice, I often carry a loose $20 in my pocket to drop and run if I’m threatened.
A man was walking by me in the park, and we exchanged a friendly look, then a quick hello. Then he said, “Hey man, I’m trying to get something to eat. It’s my birthday.” “Sorry, man,” I said. I’ve been meditating almost every day, and knew this was having a growing influence on my interactions. I payed attention to how I felt walking away in my happy birthday socks. I turned around, thinking it was probably too late and I wouldn’t find him again. But he had turned around too. I didn’t fully remember what he looked like, but I saw a look of slightly sour recognition in a black man walking my way, and asked, “It’s your birthday?” “Yes, I’m 66!” he said. I took my hand out of my pocket with my $20 and he shook my hand as I gave it to him (the first skin-to-skin contact I’ve had in months). I was surprised by his big genuine-seeming smile (with missing front teeth I hadn’t noticed before), and the bounce in his step when I passed him again (and he thanked me again and I wished him happy birthday again).
It was a big deal for me to break this rule, and I credit the birthday socks. I didn’t really believe it was the man’s birthday, but it wasn’t really Granny’s birthday either. In case you are worried, I carefully Purell-ed my hands twice shortly after our handshake to stop the spread of coronavirus, and let the few tears I shed get absorbed into my mask without touching my face.