Today is Miss Evelyn's birthday. FanStory writers rallied with good wishes, poems and accolades. I was among them, wishing Evelyn Fort Stewart a very happy eighty-seventh birthday with sincerity and appreciation for her work and spirited attitude. Even Tom got into the act. When asked to fast-track her first place trophy, he promised he'd do everything possible to ensure that today she holds that hardware in her hands.

We all feel pretty good about ourselves, knowing we used the power of our words and talent to spread a little joy. We reached out and acknowledged the woman who survived domestic abuse, and at a ripe old age began to use a computer to write out her life story.


For a week, we were better people, kinder and selfless. And wouldn't you know it, Miss Evelyn's birthday falls on a Sunday this year. How'd she pull that one off? Along with the reporters from the local newspaper that Janie King, her friend and supporter, has arranged, somehow, I imagine the entire church choir attending her bash, singing hymns and eating cake at Evelyn's bedside as the candles threaten fire ordinances in the hospital she currently calls home.

In some ways Evelyn was a passive participant in this orchestrated drama. After all, she survived, endured and made sense of her life by putting one foot ahead of the other, simply living the life she was given. Have we been stirred up because of her age? Were we ignited by the improbability to see her rise to the number one position in short works on this site? Maybe, but I think Miss Evelyn became a torch, an easy talisman for each of us to gaze towards, a wistful hope that we could survive, spirit intact, and reach a point in our lives where we accept our experiences and lot in life with the same grace as she has.

When I first joined this site five years ago, the keyboard became the entry to unlock my own demons and set them on paper. I too was a victim of domestic and sexual abuse. I wrote about it and other victims oozed out of the corners, stepped into the light and cast off their shame and horror at the circumstances that made their lives toxic. Even today, as the confetti slowly drifts to the ground and we all hunker down to endure the rest of winter, there are untold stories hidden behind acronyms on site--some more tragic and heroic than Evelyn's.

Sometimes, the telling is therapeutic, but the enduring lesson I retained from Miss Evelyn's book and stories is the simple fact that there is life after war. Not all survivors--of any sort of war--have their age and medals pinned to their chest as a mark of honour. Some of us are unremarkable, not old enough to merit accolades or too young to claim victory. And maybe, we have to be our own cheerleading squad. But given a chance, Miss Evelyn's birthday proved to me that we only need to be reminded to spread a little praise and appreciation around. So, happy birthday to you, and you and hey, you, way over there--I loved your story. You're going to be okay, Kid--so glad you were born. It's a pleasure to have met you...really.

We shouldn't need an excuse to be kind.