by J. R. Practix
Abracadabra: (exclam.) a word said by magicians when performing a magic trick.
You see, it’s right there in the definition. Almost every time you see the word “magic,” it’s followed by “trick.”
It’s amazing that we spend most of our lives looking at our talent, our circumstances and our potentials, hoping to wave a magic wand over them and say “abracadabra.” Then for some reason, we’re disappointed and even angry when the rabbit doesn’t leap out of the hat.
Is there magic? Or is it all just a trick? Is magic the best way to manipulate people into doing what you want them to do–or worse–doing nothing?
I remember it a little differently. Does anybody else remember, “Abracadabra, please and thank you?” I’m thinking maybe I heard it on Captain Kangaroo. I like that.
So when “abracadabra” stalls, you move on to “please.”
Yes, sometimes it’s a good idea to abandon magic in favor of manners. Truthfully, you can get a lot further being mannerly than you can by waving a wand in the air, demanding your will. I would not decry the validity of some forms of magic, but honestly, I’ve botten much more accomplished in my life by saying “please.”
If you happen to be so talented, gifted, powerful and wealthy that you don’t ever have to ask “please,” you will end up counting your money alone in a room on Christmas Eve, waiting to be spooked by three ghosts.
Magic is interesting, but manners are powerful.
Which leads to the final part of the phrase: thank you.
Yes, as wonderful as manners may be and as much as they may bring good fortune your way, nothing is more magical and supernatural than thank you. “Thank you” is permission for life to give you more, without fear of wasting it. If I were God, I would certainly be more generous to those who knew how to compose a thank-you note.
“Thank you” is the key that unlocks every crusty heart that has given up on humanity and has decided that life is futile. Even when it’s coerced out of a little kid slurping on an ice cream cone that was just given to him by a mother who is trying to teach the value of appreciation, it still is endearing and cute as he lifts up his little head, and through globs of gooey cream, mouths, “Thwank woo.”
It makes you want to give him another cone.
So you can pursue the magic of “abracadabra,” but it’s not nearly as good as the majesty of “please.” And as magnificent as the mannerly “please” may be, there is NOTHING as powerful as “thank you.”
Of course, you can cover all your bases, and say, “Abracadabra, please and thank you.”