My friend Bubbles used her move to Jersey as an excuse to return the rooster-art I gave her for her birthday.  She never liked it.  She told me so.  She wanted me to take it home on her birthday, but I left it with her.  I refrained from getting into a big thing, as I could have pointed out that when only one person comes to your birthday party you shouldn’t bark about the gift.  I let it go.  It was, after all, her day.  The thing is, the rooster is more than just a challenging piece of art.  It came with a built-in epiphany, which I spelled out for her, though she never opened up to it. 

The epiphany was revealed to me a few years ago, while on holiday in Italy.  A group of us rented a large castle in Tuscany.  It wasn’t plush.  The bedroom decor was monastical, spare and simple, with large unscreened windows that let in the crisp country air.  We slept like angels.  And every morning, after the stars faded but before sunrise, the windows let in the dutiful cries of the caretaker’s gallo (rooster).  We loved that sound.  It was so perfect that somebody theorized it was being piped in.  But the bird was as real as the red wine flowing through our veins. 

My friend Pooh was the first to point out that, as much as we amore il gallo, if a neighbor back home had one we’d have a different attitude.  “Man, that ****ing rooster.  Every ****ing morning with the cock-a-doodle-do.”  The rooster owner would be hauled before the homeowners board.  Once we were aware of this dichotomy, we found other examples.  Walking through the village, for instance, we saw laundry hanging from windows.  How charming!  But string up your Hilfigers in America and your neighbors will act like you’ve strung up a dead cat.   

So I explained to Bubbles the lesson of the rooster: you can’t control the world around you, but you can control how you react to it.  It’s your choice.  Life is full of cock-a-doodle-do’s.  You can smile and go back to sleep or you can hurl a shoe out the window towards the hapless bird.  Therefore, a handsome piece of rooster-art can be a calming influence in anybody’s world, reminding one of how peace of mind is there for the taking.  Such was the thought I put into Bubbles birthday present.  Such was the irony as it was hurled back at me like an old shoe.   

The rooster is mine now.  But I share his message with everyone.