Gonna Party Like It's My Birthday...('cause it is)

Knowing my birthday was coming up, someone at work asked me what my favorite age has been thus far. I responded with a quick, “oh, I’d have to think about that one!” but I will say that question stuck with me long after we parted ways. Perhaps she was being clever and trying to ask discreetly how old I am. I’m young (or old) enough that I don’t care who knows my age. I’m turning 47 tomorrow. There you go, Debbie, and anyone else who is curious. I have always prided myself on living in the moment and doing my best to appreciate as many steps and breaths along the way as I could. It occurred to me that Debbie’s question might have multiple correct answers.

There was the original birth day — the day I was born. That was April 16, 1974. Richard Nixon was president and had a few more months in office before his resignation. As my parents were driving to Baptist Hospital in Nashville (and it will always be Baptist Hospital to me and the legions of people born there), they likely listened to Elton John and Cat Stevens and The Hollies on the radio in their blue Oldsmobile Cutlass. Box office classics included Blazing Saddles, Texas Chainsaw Massacre and, arguably the finest sequel ever made, Godfather II. As they wheeled Mom back, Daddy likely sat in the waiting room, smoking, and reading headlines about the Patty Hearst kidnapping, the Vietnam war winding down, and the upcoming Rumble in the Jungle. 

Eagan, Party of 3

I had the requisite McDonald’s birthday party when I was maybe six years old. You knew you’d arrived when you either had or got to attend a McDonald’s birthday party. You got to go in the exclusive party room. There were paper hats and those little packages of shortbread cookies and fried pies with apple-flavored lava inside. And one of the characters would come out to delight you and your guests and have pictures taken. I seem to recall Grimace being on hand, mostly because I’ve spent the rest of my life wondering what Grimace is.

Seriously, what is it?

Ask any of my childhood friends to this day, and they will regale you with stories of my third-grade birthday party at Swensen’s. Swensen’s was a Nashville restaurant that served burgers and ice cream. I just looked them up and there are still a handful of Swensen locations in Florida, Texas and California. I have vague memories of sitting at a long table with all of my classmates, laughing and eating ice cream sundaes. But, through the years, I can’t tell you how many people have come up to me and recounted how much fun they had at that birthday party. Sadly, that wouldn’t be my last birthday where my guests remembered more details than me. Or, when I made an ass of myself with some ice cream.

For my Sweet Sixteen, my parents staged an elaborate surprise picnic for me at a local park. As most surprise birthdays go, the planners are so bogged down in keeping the surprise that they fail to acknowledge the day at all, leaving the honoree feeling utterly shunned and forgotten. All was forgiven, I suppose, when we arrived at a picnic pavilion decorated to the hilt and flocked with a “This is Your Life” quality cast of characters including friends, family, former teachers, and old neighbors. There was a bonfire and weenie roast and the kids played volleyball and ran around the adjacent woods. Party favors included candy, yo-yo’s and ticks.

I’m sure I did something for my 21st birthday, but nothing comes to mind just now.

For my 30th, I was pregnant and Mangrum threw a surprise party for me at a local restaurant. Mom was in the hospital and it wasn’t looking good. In fact, following the party, I went to her house and cleaned their bathrooms in preparation for visitors to be stopping by in the coming days. She rallied and would hang in there for a few more months. It was a definitely a time of uncertainty and hellos and goodbyes. 

Happy 30th

My 40s were ushered in with a Sips n’ Strokes party. A limo picked up a few girlfriends and me for a night of wine and painting. Through the course of the evening, I had aspirations of being an artist, opening up a Sips n’ Strokes franchise, helping our limo driver, Byron, reconnect with his estranged brother, and, finally, making the room less spinny. You know what they say…you can’t paint in your 40s like you did in your 20s.

At least I didn't cut off my ear.

My best birthdays, though, will always be the ones that include my favorite things: fruit tea, my favorite people, a walk at Radnor, quiet time in my soft clothes and a high-quality white cake with Breyer’s chocolate ice cream. When it comes down to it, I’m a simple girl.

Thank you in advance for the birthday messages on Facebook. I will respond to each and every one of them and say a prayer for you. If we’re friends on FB, I’ve prayed for you before, but know, as always, you’ll get a personal response tomorrow and a special prayer.

And, to know me is to love me and if you know and love me, you know I know and love animals. If you have some extra change in your pocket, please consider throwing it at Critter Calvary Rescue. They rescue pups from some of Tennessee's high-kill animal shelters and help find them their fur-ever homes. Because of them, we've had the honor of living with some of God's best angels right here on Earth.

https://www.crittercavalry.com/

And now…fruit tea. Cheers!

My first home. And my first ride.

Happy Birthday, Mama

If you know me, you know I'm not sentimental. I don't have Christmas tree ornaments or stepping stones that say "Because someone we love is in Heaven, there's a little bit of Heaven in our home." I don't relentlessly post about how much I miss my Mom. In fact, in the almost 17 years she's been gone, I don't speak of her often, though not many days go by when I don't think of her, talk to her, or catch glimpses of her in a stranger, my daughter, or even my own self. So, today, on what would have been her 79th birthday, don't look for any "wishing you a happy birthday in Heaven" post from me. I will, though, share just a few pictures and memories in honor of my mama.

Wedding, June 18, 1966

Though I used to joke with her about how old she was, they actually did have color photos when she and Daddy were married. They'd asked a friend of the family or relative to be their photographer and he chose to shoot their wedding on black and while film because it was classic and pure and truer to the art of photography. Mom never forgave him and despised her wedding pictures from this day forward. She kept this cream colored album that contained maybe 20 pictures total that comprised ALL of their wedding photos hidden in a drawer and would say, "uggh, what is that doing out?" when she'd walk by and see me leafing through it. I always thought I'd wear her dress one day. When the time came around for my own wedding, I realized I didn't want my wedding dress to be either "borrowed" or "something old." That and I'm pretty sure I couldn't have zipped her dress. 

Thom, Valerie & Pat, 1978

This was originally part of a photo strip from a photo booth but somehow this is the only remaining picture from that event. I love it because Mom and Daddy look so young and happy and baby Valerie...well, I pretty much look the same today in most photos. Some combination of RBF and mild confusion. People often ask me what it was like being an only child. Was it lonely? Did I get bored? Did I miss having siblings? Yes, sometimes it was lonely. Yes, like any kid, I occasionally got bored. No, it's hard to miss something you've never experienced. Although, strangely, I always longed for and even asked for an older brother. These two made life fun 'round the clock. Maybe they were worried about paying bills and were tired from working at their jobs but I never saw that. I always had someone to cuddle with, to sit in their lap, to read to me, to play a game.

February 24, 1980

This was on Mom's birthday, 41 years ago, at my grandparents' house. Mom lived for four things:  traveling, going out to eat, the weekend, and birthday celebrations. She was a bit like Garfield. Maybe it was being raised by Depression-era parents and not having much growing up. But birthdays -- hers, mine, anyone, really - were a HUGE deal. There was the requisite Becker's cake (seen pictured above) and ice cream, and we usually pulled out the good dishes.

Wedding of a friend's child, 1998

This is how I'll remember her...smiling, with Daddy, enjoying being with friends, hair just so and fresh lipstick. People have asked me through the years what I would say if she and I could talk once more. It's a bizarre question, really. I mean, depending on the circumstances, I might say a not nice word followed by "you scared me!" or I might say, "is this Heaven?" But truthfully, I would probably make up some excuse as to why I wasn't wearing lipstick. She would put on a fresh coat just to go check the mail so she would not understand why I wear lipstick maybe once a month and even less now because of stupid COVID and these dang-blasted masks. Mom was ahead of her time. She used to drive me crazy when we'd go out to dinner and we'd sit down and she'd whip out a little spray bottle of hand sanitizer and do her hands, the menu and the table. She was regularly ahead of her time.

So, in recap, don't be sad for me because I lost my Mom when I was 30. Be happy that I had her for three decades. Don't be sad for Bird because she never knew Mom. She knows her really well. And, if you still have your mama, stop reading this and give her a call or shoot her a text just to say hi, just because you can. And it will totally make her day.