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There’s a tradition where I come from that’s called the ‘Birthday Rose,’ and it goes like this:

On your birthday, someone gives you a rose and your job is to head out for a long walk and take this rose with you.  It’s generally better if you’re in a city with a lot of people around, because your job is to find the person who belongs to that rose.  And when you find them, you explain this is your Birthday Rose – and if they’ll take it, then you get to make a wish and they get to make a wish, and both those wishes will come true.

The Birthday Rose

Sometimes people absolutely refuse the rose, even if you explain that it’s a tradition and that they get to make a wish.  And some Birthday people get the rose and refuse to take a walk with it.

I understand both, because it’s frightening to approach a stranger with a rose.  But it’s also exhilarating.

So that’s the tradition of the Birthday Rose

There’s just other thing about this story – which is that I don’t actually come from anywhere.  I moved every year of my life ’til I was in my 20’s. So when I say it’s a tradition where I come from, I basically mean “I made this up,” but nobody will do it if I say that.  So I made up the part about it’s being a tradition, too.

On the other hand, the place I come from is the place where you make things up. So turns out this is a bona fide tradition, which means you can feel utterly safe doing it yourself.  At least, where I come from.

From now ’til 11-11-11 I’m blogging on Birthdays Remembered in preparation for my Birthday Concert Fri. Nov. 11th at the Regent Theatre in Arlington, MA:

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