Humor 5/25/99: Views on Aging & A Birthday Party

Hi everyone,

I had a great weekend in Seattle. The weather was awesome. My friends
and I went to the flagship REI store and climbed the 65 feet indoor
mountain. They have all the climbing equipment and employees who will
make sure you are safe. If you ever visit Seattle, I would highly
recommend it.

I saw "Phantom Menace" on opening night. I liked it a great deal, but
it was not as good I had hoped it to be. I guess I'm a victim of the
hype. What do you think of the movie?

This coming weekend I'll be going to my church's conference at the
Arrowhead Springs site in the mountains. It should be a really good
conference.

This past Saturday, I crashed the surprise birthday party of this really
nice guy because my friends in Seattle were all going to it. (Happy
birthday Tim!) So, in honor of birthdays, the thought provoking
question, humor and inspirational story will be related to birthdays.

This week's thought provoking question is: "If you could have stopped
aging at any point in your life up to the present, how old would you
want to remain?"

This week's humor email was forwarded by Jennifer Chin, and the
inspirational story was forwarded by someone from the IVGCF mail list.
Enjoy!

-Josh.
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Views on Aging

Do you realize that the only time in our lives when we like to get old
is when we're kids? If you're less than ten years old, you're so excited
about aging that you think in fractions.

"How old are you?"
"I'm four and a half."
You're never 36 and a half ....you're four and a half going on 5.

You get into your teens; now they can't hold you back. You jump to the
next number. "How old are you?" "I'm gonna be 16." You could be 12, but
you're gonna be 16. Eventually.

Then the great day of your life; you become 21. Even the words sound
like a ceremony. You BECOME 21....Yes!!

Then you turn 30. What happened there? Makes you sound like bad milk. He
TURNED; we had to throw him out. What's wrong? What changed? You BECOME
21; you TURN 30.

Then you're PUSHING 40....stay over there. You REACH 50.

You BECOME 21; you TURN 30; You're PUSHING 40; you REACH 50; then you
MAKE IT to 60.

By then you've built up so much speed, you HIT 70. After that, it's a
day by day thing. You HIT Wednesday...

You get into your 80's; you HIT lunch, you HIT 4:30. My grandmother
won't even buy green bananas. "Well, it's an investment, you know, and
maybe a bad one."

And it doesn't end there....

Into the 90's, you start going backwards. "I was JUST 92."

Then a strange thing happens; if you make it over 100, you become a
little kid again. "I'm 100 and a half."

Happy aging!
____________________________

A Birthday Party

Tony Campolo, professor of sociology at Eastern College, tells the story
of his visit to Honolulu for a Christian Conference. On his first night
there, he awoke sometime after three (a six hour time difference had
confused his sleep pattern) and left the hotel in search of a place to
get something to eat. Eventually he found a tiny coffee shop. He walked
in and sat down. Here is his description of the events:

The fat guy behind the counter came over and asked me, "What do you
want?" I told him I wanted a cup of coffee and a donut. As I sat there
munching on my donut and sipping my coffee at 3:30 in the morning, the
door suddenly opened, swung wide and to my discomfort in marched 8 or 9
provocative and rather boisterous prostitutes. It was a small place and
they sat on either side of me. Their talk was garrulous, loud and crude.
I felt completely out of place. I was just about to make my getaway when
I heard the woman sitting next to me say, "You know, tomorrow is my
birthday. I'm going to be 39." Her friend responded in a rather nasty
tone, "So what do you want from me? A birthday party? What do you want?
Do you want me to get a cake, and sing happy birthday to you?" "Come
on," the women sitting next to me said, "why do you have to be so mean?
I'm just telling you that's all. Why do you have to put me down? I was
just telling you that it is my birthday. I don't want anything from you.
I mean, why should I have a birthday party? I've never had a birthday
party in my whole life. Why should I have one now?"

Tony Campolo goes on; "When I heard that," he said, "I made a decision.
I sat and waited until the woman left and then I called over to the
counter to the fat guy and asked him, "Do they come in here every
night?" "Yeah," he answered. "The one right next to me", I asked, "does
she come in here every night?" "Yeah," he said, "that's Agnes. Yeah, she
comes in here every night. Why do you want to know?" "Because," I
replied, "I heard her say that tomorrow is her birthday. What do you say
we do something special for her? What do you think about throwing a
birthday party for her, right here in the diner?" A cute kind of smile
crept over that fat man's chubby cheeks. He answered with measured
delight, "That's a great idea. I like it. That's great. Agnes is one of
those people who is really nice and kind. I don't think anybody has ever
done anything nice and kind for her." "Well, look" I told him, "if it is
OK with you, I'll be back here tomorrow morning at 2:30. I'll decorate
the place. I'll even get a birthday cake for her." "No way," he
retorted, "the birthday cake, that's my thing. I'll bake the birthday
cake."

Two-thirty the next morning, Tony Campolo reports, I was back at that
diner. I picked up some crepe paper and other decorations at the store,
and made a sign of big pieces of cardboard that read, "Happy Birthday,
Agnes!" I decorated that diner from one end to the other. I had that
diner really looking great. The word must have gotten out on the street
because by 3:15 that next morning every prostitute in Honolulu was in
that place. There was wall-to-wall prostitutes - and me. At 3:30 on the
dot the door of the diner swung open and in came Agnes and her friend. I
had everybody ready; after all, I was sort of the informal master of
ceremonies of this whole affair. It was my idea, so when they came in
we all jumped up and screamed and we sang, "Happy birthday, Agnes!" And
you know, I've never seen a person so flabbergasted, so stunned, so
shaken. Her mouth fell open, her knees started to buckle, her friend had
to offer her arm to steady her, and I noticed she had started to cry.

When the birthday cake with all the candles was carried out, that's when
she just lost it. She started sobbing. Harry, the fat guy, behind the
counter he gruffly mumbled, "Blow out the candles, Agnes, blow out the
candles." Then he handed her a knife, and he ordered, "Cut the cake,
Agnes, cut the cake." Agnes looked down at that cake, and then without
taking her eyes off it, she slowly and softly said, "Look, Harry, is it
all right with you if I, I mean, if I don't, what I want to ask, is it
OK if I keep the cake a little while? Is it all right if we don't eat
it right away?"

Harry shrugged and answered, "Sure, Agnes, that's fine, you want to keep
the cake, keep the cake, take it home if you want." "Oh, could I?" she
asked. Looking at me she said, "I live just down the street a couple
doors; I want to take the cake home, is that OK? I'll be right back,
honest." She got off her stool, she picked up that cake, and she carried
it out of that diner like it was the Holy Grail. She walked slowly
toward the door, and we all stood there just speechless. When the door
closed behind her, there was stunned silence in the place.

Not knowing what else to do, I broke the silence by saying, "What do you
say we pray together?" Looking back on it now, it seems more than a
little strange that a sociologist from eastern PA would be leading a
prayer meeting with a bunch of prostitutes in a diner in Honolulu at
3:30 in the morning. But I prayed. I prayed for Agnes. I prayed for her
salvation. I prayed that her life would be changed, and that God would
be good to her. And when I finished, Harry leaned over, and with a trace
of hostility in his voice he said, "Hey, you never told me you were a
preacher. What kind of preacher are you anyway? What church do you
belong to?" In one of those moments when just the right words came, I
answered him quietly, "I belong to a church that throws birthday parties
for prostitutes at 3:30 in the morning." Harry thought a moment, and
then almost sneered as he answered, "No you don't; there is no church
like that. In fact," he concluded, "if there was, I'd join it."
--
_____________________________________

Joshua Li
431 S. Burnside Ave. #12 B
Los Angeles CA 90036
(323)936-8476
Permanent Email: joshli@post.harvard.edu
http://personal.anderson.ucla.edu/joshua.li/