When I was little I used to get excited when my birthday rolled around, but now that I am grown, not so much. All it means is another candle on the cake, which has become a virtual fire hazard and another year added to my number. I wonder how soon before I reach the crone stage?
I think there comes a time in everyone’s life when no amount of gifts, parties or cakes makes a birthday an event to look forward to. My mother never had birthdays. Well, let me rephrase that. She had a day on which she entered this world. She just didn’t celebrate it every year. She forfeited any presents and parties for the ability to just let that day go by without adding a another year to her age. As a result, when she died, she was only 39 even though I was 40 at the time.
Since my Mom didn’t have birthdays, then it goes without saying that Dad couldn’t either. You see, if he celebrated a Birthday every year, there would come a time when Mom couldn’t deny the fact that if the years were piling up on him, then they were also landing somewhere in her vicinity as well. So if she didn’t have birthdays, then neither could he. You know the marriage vows…through sickness, health, and lying about your age. To this day I don't know the exact date of either of my parent's birthdays!
Today is my birthday. I was born on September 29, and although I am not Jewish, I arrived unexpectedly on Yom Kippur, a major Jewish Holiday. The obstetrician, who was Jewish couldn’t be located until I had already made an appearance. Personally I think mom should have got a little discount, don’t you?