Category: birthday parties

Sometimes You Need to Make Your Own Birthday Party

A few days before my birthday (Saturday, March 9), I posted on Facebook that I was worried about spending the day alone. As comments started flying in, I regretted the post. A) I sounded pitiful and B) most of the comments were along the lines of “throw yourself a party.” What I really wanted was someone to be moved to do what my family used to do when I was a child: treat me like a princess all day long, shower me with presents, and not require any effort on my part. 

Suggestions included: throw yourself a party, host a jam session, go for a long walk, invite friends over for pizza, take a train ride, go to a gallery, and do whatever makes you happy.

Ultimately, my post worked. A nearby writer friend who had just had her own less than perfect birthday suggested we go out to lunch. We did, and we had a great time. In the afternoon, I had an online poetry reading, and lots of friends showed up. Several people telephoned. My neighbors brought cheesecake, a CD, a card and big hugs. Facebook “happy birthdays” are still rolling in. I also had a dinner invitation, but declined because my dance card was suddenly full. In the gaps, I played piano, and I did not feel alone at all–because I let it be known that it was my birthday and that I did not want to be alone. 

I’m embarrassed that I did that, but I have spent too many March 9ths on my own, some in hotel rooms eating takeout, some at home whining because nobody loved me. 

The truth is it’s different when you’re an adult. My father and my brother would both say “it’s just another day,” but I can’t accept that. Can you? Maybe I’m just spoiled. 

I always do things to treat myself. In fact, I took myself on a mini-vacation to Salem and Corvallis, OR, the two days before my birthday. I attended a poetry reading, did some writing, bought a new outfit, and bought myself a new printer. The weather was beautiful, and it felt good. But it’s not the same as being surrounded by people all singing “Happy Birthday” while you blow out the candles on a cake.

When you have no family or “best friend” nearby and you don’t have that mythical posse of friends who seem to show up in every novel, movie, and TV show, birthdays become problematic. If you don’t make a lot of noise, it is quite possible you will spend the day alone. 

Back in San Jose, we had a Filipino friend who used to throw his own birthday party every year. Those parties were huge. He cooked for days, hired a band, and invited everyone he knew. They started at dusk and went on to the wee hours of the morning. He did have siblings and nieces and nephews to help, but wow, it was a lot of work. I don’t think I could do that. Okay, I could, but I don’t want to.

However, I do want to celebrate that I have made it to 72 relatively healthy and still full of dreams and plans. A lot of people don’t make it to this age. I thank God I have.  

How birthdays are celebrated depends a lot on age, family situation, and cultural background. Some cultures go all out, while others barely note the day. Most Americans gather for a meal or at least for cake. They light candles and sing “Happy Birthday.” They offer gifts. That’s what most of us expect. But  “elder orphans” like me need to make some noise if we want it to happen.

Lessons for people who live alone like me:

  • Make sure people know about your birthday.
  • If you don’t have plans and want to do something, say so.
  • Don’t be afraid to ask for cake or whatever you want.
  • Take charge and invite the people you would like to have with you.
  • If you’re okay being on your own, make it a day of hiking, meditation, reading, writing, or whatever makes you happy.
  • If you’re going to be alone, plan for your favorite foods, buy yourself some flowers, and watch a movie you’ve been wanting to see. 
  • When other orphans’ birthdays come around, help them celebrate. Don’t assume they already have a plan.

Your turn. What do you do on your birthdays? What would be the perfect birthday? What do you suggest for people who are on their own and might be forgotten? 

I am so grateful for everyone who stepped up for my birthday. It was the best one I have had in years. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

For some fascinating facts about birthdays, click here.

Photo by lil artsy on Pexels.com

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Don’t Tell Me I’m Too Old for a Birthday Party

It’s all Mom’s fault. Every birthday, I woke up to find my bed covered with gifts and cards. I got to wear new clothes to school and eat whatever I wanted for dinner. We had company, cake and singing, and I felt like a princess.

Somehow, now that I’m a grownup, it doesn’t happen quite that way. The plumbing backs up, clients want their work on time and don’t care if it’s my birthday, and most of the family kind of forgets that hey, it’s my special day.
Hello! It’s March 9th. It’s my birthday.
It seems as if once you pass a certain age, you’re not supposed to celebrate birthdays. At least not so that anyone would notice. Just another day, says my brother. Don’t you dare tell anyone it’s my birthday, says a friend at church. One year closer to death, says another gloomy friend. I don’t have birthdays anymore, yet another friend responds when asked if this might possibly be her birthday.
Not me. I want to celebrate. I’m still alive, still healthy, still doing what I want to do. Sure, I’m older, but I don’t feel any older. I think a birthday is an important occasion, time to look at yourself and your life and thank God for the good things and resolve to get rid of the bad things. It’s a time to say, “Hoorah, I have passed another milestone.”
 It’s the beginning of a whole new year of life.
I still have fantasies of the family gathered around, torn wrapping paper and presents at my feet, and chocolate cake on a plate in my lap–with big frosting flowers so sugary they make your teeth hurt. I want to see the lit candles in the dark and hear everyone singing to me.
Me, me, me. I recently discovered that large groups of Christians and others don’t approve of birthdays. There’s the “me, me, me,” factor, selfish, spoiled and ungodly. But also, the whole cake-and-candle tradition began as a pagan rite to ward off evil spirits thousands of years ago. Since Jesus never mentioned birthday parties in the Bible, we have no scriptural basis for having them. Furthermore, keeping track of birthdays smacks of astrology, a kissing cousin of witchcraft.
Holy cow, but my saintly Catholic mother started it. If Mom baked the cake with her own hands and lit the candles and sang “Happy Birthday” to me, how could it be bad? She wasn’t singing to chase away evil spirits; she was singing about how she loved me. And maybe celebrating having gotten this accident-prone offspring through another year of life.
In our American culture, kids get birthday parties. We also throw parties for adults celebrating the so-called milestone birthdays: 21, 40, 50, 65, 80, 90, 100. For the years in-between, things sort of fall apart. You don’t get a party, unless you’re like our departed friend Robert who used to throw himself a whopper of a fiesta every year, with tons of food, a huge crowd, and hangovers that lasted for a week.
The rest of us mark our birthdays with sedate lunches, cakes at the office, and a few cards–some of which arrive a week or more after the actual birthday. Now we also get e-mail cards from those family members who will never get their act together enough to actually buy, sign and mail a real card. Last year, I received one with three pigs singing “Happy Birthday” to the tune of “Funiculi Funicula.” I read it, I laughed, it was gone.
Over the years, I have developed certain birthday rituals. My favorite is to run away for the day, then go out for dinner and cake that evening. On a typical birthday when Fred was still here, I drove north up the coast. I did some shopping at the outlet stores in Lincoln City, took myself to lunch, visited the quilt museum in Tillamook and walked on the beach. At Cape Lookout, I stood high over the Pacific Ocean and blew soap bubbles from a red plastic bottle of Mr. Bubble, watching them float into the sky and disappear into the clouds. I thought about my life, counted my blessings, and made some plans. Then I came home and pigged out on chocolate with my faithful husband, whom I had programmed for a month to either honor my birthday or sleep with the dog.
Aside from lunch with friends, I don’t know what I’ll do this year, but I do know that it’s supposed to be a special day. Mom always said so.
Perhaps it’s unseemly to celebrate one’s birthday as if one were still a child. Perhaps it’s even sinful. But I don’t believe it. God gave us this life, and if he grants us another year, I think it would be ungrateful not to celebrate as hard as we can.