When I was eight years-old my mom and dad threw me a birthday party and invited every kid who lived within shouting distance of our house. If I am recalling each of those neighborhood friends correctly after forty-six years (which I believe I am), I'd put the number around twenty-five. There were a lot of kids in the old neighborhood and my dad created a grand treasure hunt in the backyard, drew a giant picture of a clown and had us throw beanbags through the mouth, nose and eyes, and even built a balloon/dart board like you'd see at a carnival. My mom, who made and decorated fantastic cakes, fed not only the kids but the parents, too. My parents went all out on my birthdays and I deeply cherish those memories. I can only speak for myself but as an adopted child being reminded frequently how much you are loved goes a long way to quell any lingering feelings of abandonment. Perhaps this is why they went to such efforts.I must admit not all birthday memories are as clear. For example, the memories of my fortieth birthday party, a mere six years ago, are considerably hazy. A friend's band was playing at the Dayton Marriott patio bar and another very good friend rented the hotel room adjoining mine. Let's just say we filled two bathtubs full with "beverages" and no one went home thirsty. Again, I remember only bits and pieces. It started with Bad Juan, a tambourine solo on stage, plenty of sweaty hugs, a ride in an RV, and somehow ended in a $50 taxi ride from downtown Dayton back to the Marriott--about a five minute drive. Clearly, I'm a good tipper on my birthday.
I mention these two parties because without question they are probably my most "memorable" birthday celebrations. I've been lucky enough to have many others with great friends and family but I can honestly say these two were probably the tops. That was until today.
After reconnecting with my biological family, my Uncle Jerry and Aunt Kathy expressed to me how sometimes when my birthday would come around each year, they, along with my late birth mother Rosemary, would often think about me. They wondered where I was, if I was okay, if I was loved, if I was having a good life, and probably if I was having a happy birthday. This idea floored me. It had never once occurred to me, while I was stuffing my face full of cake or tequila, people I didn't know might be out there wondering about me and missing every single one of my birthday celebrations. And to put a fine point on it; my cause for celebration was a yearly reminder of a regrettable and painful moment in their lives. I understand this feeling. Every year on my dad's birthday in November, I spend time thinking about him and what he meant to me when he was alive. I do this on other days as well but none more than on his birthday. When I considered this I decided the only thing I could do to remedy the situation was to boldly invite myself and my wife to their home in Pennsylvania to celebrate my birthday. I'd like to report today was the most meaningful and beautiful birthday celebration I think I've ever had.
I promise to write all about it and spill the details of the day's festivities in full but right now I'm still trying to take it all in as it's been, in a word, overwhelming. I truly appreciate every gift I've ever been given in years past and remember many specifically from friends and family quite fondly. Today, however, was one for the record books and I can't wait to share them here on my blog. All I will say tonight, as I wrap up another year of life and begin another, the gifts I received today are shinier, more treasured, and more breathtakingly remarkable, than any I ever remember receiving in my life. Stay tuned.
