Birthdays

Having a birthday on a holiday is pretty rough for kids. One family member has a birthday in early January, two others are on December 26 and 28. They would get one large present for both birthday and Christmas. One had never had a birthday party until his wife threw one for him. People are busy enough around that time without the intrusion of another gift-buying occasion.

I wished someone a happy birthday because it fell on the 4^th of July. She didn’t celebrate Independence Day and had spent her life resenting the fact that her day wasn’t just for her. I know a very happy woman whose birthday is on October 30^th. She celebrates through the 31^st and November 1^st. She loves having the holiday decorations up and all the fun things going on.

Yesterday I celebrated my birthday. Until 18 years ago, there was no holiday associated with September 11^th. The first few years, I thought I minded. But then I decided I could still celebrate my own day. And frankly, the date has always been sketchy. My parents had separated by the time I was born and were divorced soon after. On my 20^th birthday, the car I rode in got T-boned by a drunk AWOL sailor hurrying back to base. My mom suffered a lot of pain, broken bones, and bruising, plus mental stress. I may have had whiplash, but the emergency room doctors didn’t think I needed their care.

September 11^th, 2001, will always be the worst birthday I ever had. That morning, I had no radio on and no television. The kids and I loaded up in the van and I drove them to school. As I drove away, I turned on the radio and heard the horror going on across the country. I wanted to turn around and get my children. I wanted my husband to come home. Instead, I drove to work and did my job as well as I could, while listening to co-workers from New York frantically trying to contact relatives at Ground Zero or nearby.

That night, Mike and I didn’t celebrate my birthday. We cuddled together and took comfort in being together, no matter what happened in the coming days. The things we noticed that week was the lack of air traffic above us. The calls for blood versus the assurance that we would not let “them” defeat us. The wide-spread stories of the heroes of the day and the people desperately looking for someone who had been missing since that day. Years later, the movie Reign Over Me, Adam Sandler’s best ever acting and Don Cheadle’s brilliant portrayal can move me to tears. Imagine the last words you said to your loved one when the universe takes away the opportunity to make up to them for that.

And yes, all of these experiences can be used in crafting characters and giving them flaws. So many obviously strong emotions come out of these tragedies. I’m incorporating the Twin Towers in my work in progress in a small way as a secondary character lost her parents that day. Shattered by that loss, she never really found her center again.

But in real life, I have come to the conclusion that birthdays are all in our heads. In some cultures, you celebrate the feast day of the saint after whom you are named instead of a birthday. We created the myth that we must have a beautiful cake, ice cream, a fabulous dinner, and presents galore to have a happy birthday. Instead, that money could have gone to help children without clothes or clean water, animals abused and in need of a forever home, and to fight for civil liberties.

Understanding that the reason I have had many unhappy birthdays has to do with feelings of entitlement that aren’t fulfilled. Just as when I wanted to be the beautiful fairy princess for Halloween or when a director let me read for the part of the lead but cast me as a waitress. Life is not about getting what you want. It’s about appreciating who you are and what you have. Making your own happiness. I brought carrot cake cupcakes to my writing group and we sang the song and had a fun time. It’s all good.

Thanks for reading, I’ll be back on Sunday.