Be Kind

Kindergarten. 1972

So I turn 50 this week.

That's not a plea for gifts or birthday wishes or whatever.

This birthday -- more than any other -- has befuddled me.

The date in question is this Thursday.

Thanksgiving.

I'll call the Staples/Greenwich football game in the morning, and I'm looking forward to hosting the senior day ceremony, as well as eating a lot at the tailgate, because my Thanksgiving plans are...er...unsettled.

Yes. That's the word I'll use.

Trip number 50 around the Sun for me has been quite the thing. It could be its own blog post, and I could settle a whole lot of scores. For now? No. Let's not do that.

Instead, let's find the positive.

I want something*, but nothing material.

(*Yes, there are things that I want, but this is different.)

You see, many people -- far more benevolent than I -- have begun using social media, and Facebook specifically, to ask users to donate to a charity. It's a noble thing, and I applaud those who do it. Then we get notifications on Facebook to donate.

I don't want to do that to you. By all means, please donate to something because you want to, but not because I've given you a Facebook notification. This is basically the same philosophy I used for the Ice Bucket Challenge of 2014. Do it if you want.

**But, please feel donate to Arthritis Foundation, in honor of my dad. Or any myriad causes that will eradicate us of cancer, ALS (Lou Gehrig's Disease), and heart disease. Or give to Big Brothers/Big Sisters or Boys and Girls Club.**

There are many places that deserve your money or time. I don't want to hit you up for any of that, mostly because I can't afford to do it myself, and it hurts me more than you know. I'm practically a charity unto myself (again, a whole different blog post).

No, what I want, is goodness. Seems phony, I know. Trite, even.

But as I thought about my 50th birthday, and the negative feelings I've had about it (I don't personally care about the number), I felt the best thing everyone could do is simple.

Be Kind.

I thought of the departing words of the Twelfth Doctor, as portrayed by Peter Capaldi on Doctor Who. This is the speech he gave before he regenerated into the wonderful Jodi Whittaker as the Thirteenth Doctor.

"You wait a moment, Doctor. Let’s get it right. I’ve got a few things to say to you. Basic stuff first.
"Never be cruel, never be cowardly. And never ever eat pears! Remember – hate is always foolish…and love, is always wise.
"Always try to be nice, and never fail to be kind."

(Moving forward, after he talks about never telling anyone, except children, what his real name is)

"Laugh hard. Run fast. Be kind.
"Doctor – I let you go."

That's all I want, friends. There is so much sadness. There is so much bad.

But, if we occasionally take a moment and look, it's not as bad as we think. We just see the bad more than ever, and maybe we can rise above it all anyway.

We can -- and should -- have healthy debates, but at the end of the day, let's love each other.

We should debate Bon Jovi's place in music history, and...for the love of God...John Mellencamp. I mean, why?

We should debate Don Mattingly and Keith Hernandez, or Tom Brady and Peyton Manning.

Or Jordan and LeBron.

We should never debate Babe Ruth. Well, you're welcome to try.

We should debate politics. In a healthy way. Because we all love our country (well...maybe not. I've lost some faith on that last point).

But we should hear and try to understand the other side. No matter how hard.

We should shake hands and be well at the end of the day.

Stop and help the person in need.

Hold a door -- even if they don't say thank you. That's their problem. You did the right thing.

Help a friend who needs it. Sometimes they just need to be heard, but honesty and a kind word always help.

Sometimes, simply asking if someone needs help is enough. Sometimes, just help.

Do it. There's no playbook for it.

Don't just do it for my birthday. Do it every day.

As for me, I'm going to hope the 51st year is much better. Because it will be.

"The best is yet to come," Mr. Sinatra once crooned. "And babe, won't it be fine.

"The best is yet to come. Come the day you're mine.

"And you're gonna be mine."

Forties -- I release you.