On December 22, 2023, I turned 62.  It was a Friday, which is one of the days in the winter I have access to the "big room" in our town's community center for the express purpose of working on my juggling. It's hard to practice outside in Maine in December when the sun sets before 4:00 PM and the temperature is consistently below freezing.  So, while my wife and our daughter, Naomi, who was home for a few days prepared my birthday supper, I went to the center to practice.  

Now there are two things that the reader needs to understand.  One is about the community center.  It is just what it says it is.  People are in and out often for a variety of reasons, and one of the entrances comes right into the big room.  When people do, they are usually respectful of what I am doing, and speak little or not at all while I am concentrating on, say, juggling five balls of all different sizes.  This is good of them because the other thing I want the readers to know is that I don't like distractions when I'm practicing.  My practice personality is pretty much diametrically opposed to my show personality. 

But on this day, my birthday, no less, a gentleman I had never met before came into the big room and wanted to converse with me.  

"Hey, that's pretty good.  I learned to juggle sitting under my Christmas tree as a kid, juggling the Christmas balls," he begins.

"Right," I think, "How convenient that there's two Christmas trees in this big room, and that just happens to be how you learn to do the very thing I was doing in privacy 15 seconds ago. If I had a dime for everyone who has told me they have learned how to juggle once."

" Cool," I replied.

""Yeah," he said, "I'd sit by the tree while my brothers watched TV and I'd keep trying and trying."

"He's not going to move on," I thought, "I really want to use this time in here tonight. Groan"

"Cool," I replied.

"Of course sometimes I'd drop the ornaments and they'd break.  I guess that's how I learned not to drop them so much."

""Mm hm, negitive reinforcement. If only it was that simple to master the art of juggling. I'm not buying," I thought.

I replied with a fake laugh. "Clever," I said.

By now I was done.  I couldn't really focus on using my time productively.  "Maybe if I engage him briefly, he'll be satidfied and move on," I hoped.

So  I introduced myself.  He told me that his name is Dan.  I offered him three beanbags and said, "Let's see what you can do."  He had a pretty good three ball cascade and that was about it. Then he asked me to show him how to do four.  So much for moving on.  I showed him the basics.  As we talked, though, I began to enjoy this interaction.  I asked if he ever passed with a partner.  He was surprised when I told him I thought he was ready to try it, and even more surprised when we started to be successful at it.   

And while we juggled we talked.  He came by the center every few days to read the free newspapers.  He lived in a part of time I know tends to be lower income.  He lives alone. So while I was hoping to not be disturbed on my birthday, he was simply a lonely guy wanting someone to hang out with a few days before Christmas.  By the time my block of big room time was ending, I really enjoyed juggling with Dan, and felt the time spent juggling with him was a nice birthday surprise. 

As I told my wife and daughter over my traditional birthdy supper of jumbalaya, "I can hardly call my self a Christian juggler, then tell the guy to leave me alone so I could practice."  Instead I now have a simple but meaningful birthday memory that will last a lifetime.