I'm not sure that the birthday ritual is that significant to women of a "certain age." I realize that some still want to celebrate with big parties and all the hoopla. As I got older, I always preferred to let it slip by as unnoticed as possible. This year was the most traumatic and unnoticed by all but a few select individuals. I turned 49 on the first of May.
I have to preface this story with saying that I was adopted, my birth was not something that was celebrated but an event that was best forgotten by my biological family. I think that small cloud has always invisibly hovered over my head. My adopted, all German, family celebrated the birthday with merrymaking, jubilation and lots of food and socialization. I grew up in Germany where they fete themselves the with the all the lavishness that a birthday deserves, even the most modest affairs begin with the family coming for "Kaffee" and then the festivities spill into the evening with more food and friends coming by with flowers, wine, or small gifts. There was no pressure on friends to host the occasion. You were responsible for your own party.
I found out that living in "Amerika" means that hosting your own bash was a little forward, maybe too narcissistic even egotistical. You are at the mercy of your family or your friends to instigate a celebration. I picked my 16 year old son up at his bakery job. He presented me with a ToGo cup with "Happy Birthday" in highlighter pen across the lid. As I entered the gym on that morning, I swiped my card, and presto, a small tune emitted from the computer and an electronic voice said, "Happy Birthday." The reception staff turned their heads, and chorused the same sentiment then turned back to their work. After that, to work and nary a mention was made. My boss whispered a "Happy Birthday" in passing. She had extended a dinner invitation, which I gratefully accepted. When, after being asked what I wanted for supper, I replied with "rib eye", she let me know that my husband eschewed red meat and that wouldn't be fair. Wait a minute, whose birthday is this anyway? I got my plate of rib eye. I have decided that this is the last year of miserable birthdays. I will be 50 in 2008 and have decided to go home and celebrate properly. If you read self pity into this entry, there's plenty! Unfortunately the situation was of my own doing.
As of today, I will pledge that, like Scrooge, "I will honor birthdays in my heart, and try to keep them all the year." In honor of Olga's birthday, I am mimicking her birthday photo. The beads are a gift from my coworker, Connie.
