Birthdays and Celebrations

I just celebrated my birthday.  Not the big 70, just its’ lead in; the end of the 60s. For me, birthdays are times to reflect and reassess.  Having had so many, I do enjoy remembering folks and activities that were part of past celebrations.  Not knowing how many more I will be blessed with reminds me to set good priorities, make good choices, and use my time well.  As a child birthday celebrations were pretty much a family affair: a special meal of the birthday boy or girl’s favorite dish and a cake.  A present for sure, usually already known as it had been asked, begged, pleaded for. 

When in I had just started school my BF, E and I both had summer birthdays.  I remember feeling so grown up as I was allowed to walk to her apartment, which was in the middle of the next block, on my own to attend her birthday party.  Typically the party ended with cake and ice cream.  Shortly after that I walked back home.  About half way there I knew I had a problem.  This was one of my earliest memories of the scourge of lactose intolerance, though didn’t know what it was then. I had no name for the problem, just knew I shouldn’t have cake and ice cream.  I was not able to make it home in time.  My parents weren’t home so I went up to the third floor of our triple decker when my Grandma and Aunt Jane lived. Aunt Jane was the coolest.  She was a secretary, worked downtown, kept her fingernails painted, wore heels and gloves to work each day.  She was single and had the greatest boyfriend, Arty.  She bailed me out, cleaned me up, cleaned up all evidence of the accident and never squealed.  To this day I love her dearly for keeping my secret and saving my pride and dignity. 

A few years later, when I turned 9 and when she moved away, my mother’s oldest sister, my Auntie Irene and I, became pen-pals.  She and grandma moved to Florida, we moved out of the city. I always had floral note cards which helped to limit the amount of original writing I would have to do.  For my birthday, Auntie Irene would send a card with some money and a letter all the way from Florida!  She always had a wonderful story to tell me.  This was a correspondence that lasted for many years.  I enjoyed writing to her and loved getting my very own mail.  I remember my earliest attempts.  They all began the same; I think I might have gotten “A child’s guide to letter writing” from the library and treated it like a recipe book, literally following every directive.

In my teens, I also got birthday packages.  These were a very special treat. My cousin L, on my Father’s side, (not to be confused with cousins E or B) made me birthday corsages.  These were done with candy, ribbon, and tulle; made by hand and had a theme for each birthday.  They were heavy, so I never wore mine outside of the house, and fearing they might break, only wore them for a short time.  I had a special shelf in my bedroom where I displayed them all year round; which I did until they got old, and dusty, and started to fall apart.  

Stay tuned.