Daytime view from Aquinnah dee |
Today
is my birthday. I have a peculiar sense of detachment about it. I feel proud to
be able to claim another year of knowledge, discovery and survival. I have never been a person that demands a lot
of public recognition, with streamers and party hats on the anniversary of my
birth; I do not expect a status elevating the date to the prominence of a
National Holiday. I have known people who are actually offended when their entire
birthday is not spent in tribute to them.
They schedule vacation days because, “they deserve them.” I have no such sense of entitlement. On the
other end of the spectrum, I have a
friend whose husband comes from a family of Friends that did not acknowledge
birthdays in any way. Not even with a
simple card or casual morning greeting kiss and a “ Happy Birthday.” My friend stood her ground when they had
children; their children had birthday celebrations, a gift or two and yes,
sometimes birthday parties. I respected her going toe to toe with him on that
score.
I
have been blessed with a rich library of birthday memories. As it turns out, the birthdays
that mean the most to me are my children’s. The days of their births are what imbued the most meaning in my life.
My own date of birth became special
on my fifth birthday. My mother, father and sister, my aunt and my grandmother
were all there for dinner. I received
several books I had wanted. There was a cake with candles and I blew them all
out in one long breath. I was surrounded
by those who loved me most, and they each had a gift for me. It was exactly
that feeling that has served as a benchmark for Happy Birthdays ever since.
When I was growing up, the birthday ritual included choosing the dinner menu
for that night. (I inevitably chose fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn and a
vanilla cake with vanilla frosting).
After dinner, there were cards and a couple of modest gifts such as a
book or a dress my mother sewn. There was always talk about the year to come.
Scanning
through remarkable birthdays, the next one that jumps out at me was when my
lifetime friend threw a surprise birthday party for me on the Vineyard. It was the summer that I turned twelve. I had
never imagined such a thing, so my surprise was complete and utterly sincere. I
recall my initial confusion about why all these people I knew somehow appeared in her
house. I am embarrassed to admit that I didn’t even understand it was for me until she told me!
For about
thirty-five years, my husband and I observed the tradition of a few exchanged nonsense
words that we repeated instead of Happy Birthday at the beginning of the day. At
breakfast, I opened any cards from family or friends that might have come on
the days leading up to my birthday.
Throughout the day, my parents, my sister, and my friends would often
give me call. I cherished those moments
more than I can measure. It felt good to be remembered. After work, my husband and I – and later, our
children, -- often went out to dinner.
He would give me his card (I received a ratio of funny cards to sentimental ones 8 out of 10 years) along with a thoughtful gift of jewelry or some form of technology or maybe a gift card for clothes that I always felt was too
extravagant. My children would make me heart-rending drawings or “projects,”
many I still have. Later, when they had control of their own money, the three
of kids would, individually, or, on occasion, together, chip in, to find some ideal
gift, an object I might have oft-handedly admired during the past month. The girls seem to have a second-sense about such things. My son has been particularly keen on gift
cards granting me access to his technological prowess. Truthfully, what the
children probably never know is that the biggest gift is in their remembering. My closest friends and I
never worried much about gift exchanges being on the specific birthday. I was never, ever, convinced that I deserved
them. They would surprise me with functional (an electric tea kettle),
extravagant (a peignoir set), and exotic
(Italian hand-blown glass necklace).
While I treasure the thought and the effort put into making a selection
it is the idea that someone thought about
me that means so very much.
The
past few years have followed different patterns of celebration. In fact, I have
had to work a little harder than usual to celebrate. Not so much because I am
growing older, more so because my life is not unfolding in the way I had
envisioned it might. However, on each of my birthdays over the past four years,
my friends and my children have found ways to delight me and restore in me that
feeling of joyful pleasure I remember so well from my fifth birthday. As it turns out, today has been no exception. It is a day for each of us to be reminded that we matter to others. That what we do and who we are makes a difference in their lives.
In
my lifetime, I have met several people who share my birthday. I have read
extensive mathematical models that can be used to calculate the odds of a roomful of people
sharing the same birthday. I believe that, in a room of 23 people, the odds are
better than 50% that two of them share the same birthday. Among my friends, there are three of us; in addition to me, there is my mother’s best friend, Nan, and my best friend’s
neighbor, Michelle.
Michelle called me earlier
this week to say she was thinking about our birthdays. I asked her if this was
“the big one?”
“Sixty!” she said.
“What do you have planned?”
“A couple of friends are
joining me for dinner. I made reservations in Aquinnah at the Outermost Inn.
Sunset is at 7:09 p.m.. We will have drinks
on the lawn, then dinner at 8p.m. I
can’t think of a place I would rather be than on the furthest tip of the Island
watching the sunset on my birthday.”
Aquinnah is an Island
treasure. Located near the Vineyard’s famous clay cliffs. Aquinnah is bordered
by the Vineyard Sound to the north and northwest and the Atlantic Ocean to
the south and west. Sunsets are a marvel to behold from that vantage point on
the Island. The Outermost Inn serves superb meals. Though it is the only restaurant for fine
dining in the smallest town on the Vineyard, it rivals any three star
restaurant in New York City. Dinner is by reservation
only.
When I hung up with Michelle,
I googled the phone number for the Outermost Inn and dialed them immediately. Reception was spotty. When I got through with
my conversation, I had given myself a birthday gift.
Sunset over the Atlantic dee |
When
Michelle and her guests settle into the lounge chairs for the sunset display
tonight, they will be served a bottle of Veuve Cliquot. They can toast her sixty years, and,
together, keep their chairs turned westward to watch the sun slip below the
horizon. The sweet satisfaction of having
made those arrangements was multiplied a few days ago when Michelle
called. Knowing I wouldn’t be back on
the Island for another 25 days, she offered me a room in her house for the
weekend. She wondered if I would like to
join her and her friends at the Outermost on our birthdays. Regrettably, I had
to decline because I am going to visit my daughter in Philadelphia at her new
abode. However, if astral projection is all
that it is supposed to be, I will be with them tonight. Around seven o’clock, I will plug my
headphones in and use Hypnosis for Deep Trance Mind Travel (Healing Astral Imagery) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CsrhpqiibNAd to settle in beside them on an Adirondack chair. After a while, I expect to find myself
hovering somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean in a time continuum in which all my
birthday celebrations from the past, and and present and all the joyful
possibilities of the future exist simultaneously in one space and time continuum. Ultimately, the date and time of my birth
are not what matter, the love I hold in my heart as the sun settles below the
horizon are all that I will carry as I step boldly into a new year, no matter
the astral plane on which I find myself.
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