Today’s post from the past comes from Annie on April 14, 2011.

“Those roles which, being neither those of hero nor Heroine, Confidante nor Villain, but which were none the less essential to bring about the Recognition or the denouement were called the Fifth Business in drama and Opera companies organized according to the old style; the player who acted these parts was often referred to as Fifth Business.”

~Robertson Davies, Fifth Business

There were lots of people and probably not enough callings in our ward in the center of Logan, Utah, in the mid 1970s.  I think that was the main reason that one particular lady  was assigned to be the birthday caller. We lived in that ward for three years, starting when I was four. Each birthday morning I would get a phone call, a memorable and fairly startling event in my young life.

“Is this Annie Bentley?” a cheerful voice would ask.

“Umm..uh-huh?”  In spite of the yearly routine I was always unsuspecting at first.

The Birthday Lady would inhale an upbeat and begin singing:  “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear ANNIE, happy birthday to you.  Have a great birthday, dear.”  Click.

I would hold the phone to my ear a little longer than necessary, grinning at the sheer pleasure of a stranger remembering me, a first grader most adults didn’t even notice much.

This happened every year.  We moved out of the ward and then moved again during my senior year in high school but the Birthday Lady kept us all on her list, kept track of changing phone numbers, and called me every October 15th.  I would still grin at the pleasure of being singled out but also at her old-lady bravado of singing full-voiced to a teenager long moved from the old neighborhood.  How uncool.  I loved it.

I went away to college and the Birthday Lady still called my house back in Logan.  My mom would listen in proxy to the birthday song and report later in the day that I had been remembered again.  Many times no one would be home for the call anymore but the BL would leave the song as a message on the phone answering machine.

Fast forward a lot more years.  I had moved across the country with my husband and daughter, pregnant with my second child.  It was my first birthday away from extended family and I was homesick and hormonal… a terrible combination for birthday melancholy.  The phone rang and I answered.

“Is this Annie Bentley?”

“Uh…Yes?” I was still a little slow to remember the familiar voice, the quick breath before the warbled singing.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear ANNIE, happy birthday to you.  I hope you have a wonderful day.”

“Oh…thank you so much” I managed to get out through my tears.  “How did you find me? You don’t know how much this means…” I wasn’t sure if I was violating Birthday Lady protocol by engaging in post-song conversation but I wanted to prolong this familiar connection to home as long as I could.

“You’re welcome, dear.” Click.

I don’t get calls from the Birthday Lady anymore. I’m sure she’s managing some celestial birthday (or arrival?) list by now.  Her status in my life looms larger than her deceptively small role and eventual anonymity to me. When I’m griping or grappling with how to make a difference, I remember her many years of follow-through lessons (show up! be consistent!) and her example of small efforts made great. She’s one of my Fifth Business players, along with a certain teacher who gave me her confidence in my abilities before I grew my own, a friend who was right when he told me “this isn’t like you,”  and others.  Who are yours?

. . .

All of us have starring roles in our own lives and invitations to play supporting roles in others’ lives. In your life, who has played a small but crucial, Fifth-Business kind of supporting role so that her influence has made the difference? What specifically did he say or do that made an impact?

Something else to consider: whose Fifth Business are you?