August 25, 2024

Steve Martin's Birthday

Los Angeles, California 

I am a complicated woman. I have set the bar high for my own and others' behavior. I am easily annoyed and could use a 12-step program to kick my habit of complaining. But, I also spend a lot of time trying to be nice. I really like people, at least when they're not pissing me off. So I am friendly and I think, for the most part, considerate. And I am always gratefully blown away when someone shows me an unexpected kindness. Because since the pandemic, or maybe even before, people got kinda not nice. Maybe it started with the workforce who couldn't work from home during the pandemic. The cashiers and tellers who worked through it all and fought the Karens with the mask tantrums. About halfway through lockdown those employees got that look, like dead behind the eyes. And then a younger generation entered the workforce and that's a whole other zombie breed. Haven't quite figured it out, but I kindasorta think that after being the darling of the parents who fought with their teachers, coaches, and probation officers (because their kids could never, ever be in the wrong), these young adults have absolutely no idea how to be of service to anyone outside of their own little golden duck puddle. If you ask them how their day is going (and why aren't they asking me, I'm the customer?), they give you a blank 'huh' look. I know that look. It's the look of smartphone deprivation. So the one without that look, who is bright and makes eye contact with you, can really make your day. And give you some hope for civilization.

Earlier this month, on Steve Martin's birthday (I heard that mentioned on NPR that morning), I hit a trifecta of wonderfulness. And it couldn't happen on a better day. I love Steve Martin. For anyone who thinks he only makes comic films, they missed his stand-up genius, and are missing his writing: witty screenplays; insightful novels; his memoir, and the plays he has written. And then there is his banjo virtuosity, and his knowledge and love of fine art. And, by the way, he seems like a really nice guy. Plus, he dated Linda Ronstadt!!

One of my favorite things about Steve Martin is that he made balloon animals for us at Disneyland. My parents were kinda nuts about Disneyland. When I was growing up in Burbank, California, and freeway traffic was manageable, my family was known to spontaneously jump into the car and make our way to Disneyland. Often this would be on summer nights when my mom would say to my sister and me Grab a sweater. We're going to Disneyland. This would be after dinner but in time to drive there to watch the fireworks. We also went to Disneyland for whole days, especially when my cousins were in town. As kids, we knew how to navigate Disneyland. How to bob and weave through a slower-moving crowd on Main Street. How to get through a relatively-unknown passage to get from Fantasyland to Frontierland. We knew which rides to hit first before lines got long. And we knew that before we left, we would find the guy who made the balloon animals for us, while entertaining us with his funny patter. He was the same guy who worked at Merlin's Magic Shop in Sleeping Beauty's Castle. When he was behind the counter entertaining shoppers, you couldn't even get into the small shop which was located on the right side of the Main Street side of the castle (also located adjacent and nearby was the grotto and wishing well which was, frankly, the best place in the park to make out on a date). That creator of balloon-animals, the Merlin's Magic Shop comedian, was Steve Martin.

So, on Steve Martin's 79th birthday, I was running errands, hitting the bank, Sprouts and Trader Joe's. Everyone was cheerful and engaging. When I got to Sprouts, a multi-tattooed young guy who was shopping with his girlfriend/wife and small baby, gestured that I should go ahead of them with my handbasket filled with only two or three items. Are you sure? I queried. He nodded. And my question resonated after I checked out, thanked them again, and made my way out of the store. Has it come to this, that when someone offers kindness, we question and even give them an out? You know you just offered me kindness, right? I'm offering you an opportunity to reconsider. Maybe you've just had a stroke?

I really despair of getting back to a kinder and gentler world. I honestly think that the genie is out of the bottle and we will continue to live this way -- like rats crowded in a cage. We see it in the way people are driving. It's a dog-eat-dog world out there with everyone gunning for anyone who gets in their way. As I left Sprouts I reflected on what it feels like when someone offers what was once considered to be a common courtesy but is no longer common. Sadly, it is rare.

As I walked up to Trader Joe's, which shares a parking lot with Sprouts, I saw a severely disabled older woman walking, assisted by a cane, up to the store. I entered the alley where the carts are stored, and backed one out. Would you like this cart? Her face lit up. Thank you, she said as she took it. I think she was grateful. I was ecstatic. Here I was, exemplifying what I think is important: Paying it forward. It was the least I could do on a day like this. It was, after all, Steve Martin's birthday!

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About Me

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California, United States
Once, I came up with this brilliant idea (well, I thought so, anyway) that the key to happiness was to concentrate on three things -- to choose three interests, then focus and funnel your energy into that trio. I was an English major in college and have always written in some shape or form. So, my first choice was writing. I've always kept journals, and have also written plays, novels, poetry, and shopping lists. I do have a day job. It deals with numbers (assets and finances). Go figure. I went to college at a California University. I live in California, Los Angeles, but not downtown. No children, and sadly, between dogs at the moment (dog person, not a cat person). Enough info? I was going for just enough to not be a cypher, yet not enough to entice a stalker. And, I started my blog after being dragged, kicking and screaming, to do so. Blogs! Read about ME here, right? But I have been advised that this is a way to write regularly, and to put your writing OUT THERE. So, here goes. My name is Bronte Healy. Thanks for reading my blog.