Happy Birthday To Me

Today is my birthday, and quite frankly, I am not sure what to feel.

I know some people loathe birthdays because they feel it only reminds them of how old they are getting or how different they look. This is sometimes offset by having friends who are larger and older than you -- how you doing, Roy…lol.

It is a strange feeling when the two people who are responsible for you being here are no longer with you physically. My Mom and I always had this ritual; she would call and wish me a happy birthday, and I would always crack some lame joke like, “Thanks for birthing me, and sorry about my big head.”

We would laugh and I would thank her for the card, plant or edible arrangement she sent me through the mail. My Dad, a man of few words, would usually send a card.

My grandparents would also send a card but would always follow up with a phone call to make sure I got “the birthday money” -- code for ten dollars…smile. My grandfather would always recant some story from my childhood, reminding me what a bad scamp I was as a little boy. Although I had heard these stories countless times, there was always something comforting about having your life validated by someone you loved.

When you get right down to it, isn’t that what a birthday is all about?

Last year my Facebook wall was bloated with happy birthday greetings from family, friends, old students, new students and a myriad of quirky acquaintances I have met along the way.

Today in our fast-track, technology-driven lives, we have made the art of celebration as quick and easy as a microwave dinner. Between Facebook and text messages, we get to say Merry Christmas, Happy Anniversary, congratulations on the new baby, get well soon, sorry about your pet, Mr. Whiskers, and, yes, Happy Birthday.

We are able to express a wide range of sentiments to people with incredible convenience and efficiency. Don’t get me wrong; we should be happy when anyone is thinking about us, but there is something to be said for old-school, rich communication.

I recently received a birthday card in the mail from my good friend Marty and her husband. I cannot tell you the simple joy it is to get a card knowing that someone took a few minutes to think about the right message, a silly phrase or just a picture that sparks a shared memory or joke. Not to mention the added task of negotiating the post office, which, quite frankly, sometimes is right up there with the DMV.

One of my best friends, Jerry, and I spoke this weekend. I talked about my upcoming birthday, and we spent an hour on the phone laughing about our carefree days as graduate students, travels in Europe and all the crazy characters we met and special moments shared.

Like the time Jerry came to visit me in Atlanta. I took him to all my old haunts where he got free shots from bartenders who normally would not give me the time of the day. Curse his pecs and big arms. Or when he tried to sell me as a harem boy to some crazy patron we met in a bar in Zurich.

Jerry reminded me not to forget the crazy, wisecracking, fun-filled guy I was when I was younger. Sometimes as we get older and are bogged down with all the trappings of titles, careers, mortgages, taxes, family and other responsibilities, we lose the essence of our true selves.

I know sometimes when I look up suddenly or get a quick glance of myself in a reflective surface, there he is staring at me. He is that skinny kid, sporting the high-top fade, ’80s fashion, goofy grin and brightening any club dance floor with that authentic and distinctive laugh.

It is amazing how much of your life you can remember when you are surrounded by friends and loved ones. Maybe that is what a real birthday celebration is about, not so much to mark the years we think we have left but to remember all those moments we sometimes forget on our own but magically get to relive when surrounded by those we love.

Anyway, as I celebrate my day, I challenge all of you to share your birthday thoughts and observations. This challenge especially goes out to all you old-school Leos in the month of July. Remember: Our claws may not be as sharp, we may order takeout rather than run down a gazelle, or even our roar may come with a pesky cough, but trust me; there is still plenty of life and fight in this old cat.

Happy Birthday to me….smile.