Wednesday, November 6, 2019

Happy Birthday?




I have always believed that Birthdays are really special.  Maybe better than Christmas since your birthday is centered around just you.  Growing up Mother and Dad always went out of their way to make that day very special for my two brothers and I.  When we were little there were always parties in the backyard with all our friends in attendance and as we got older Mom planned some place special for dinner.  Dad's favorite pastime was shopping for gifts which he was really fantastic at.

I can remember a lot of birthdays like when I was eleven and Mom had a special dinner planned and a beautiful cake baked.  She was working at Brockway Glass, shift work and going to business college.  That day a monsoon rain hit Muskogee and all the streets were flooded by the time she got off at 4:00. It was well after dark before she made it home.  Dad had finished fixing the dinner she had started before she went to work and I had to stare at my presents wondering if I would ever get to open them. It turned out well in the end as I got a Kodak Hawkeye camera that year complete with the flash attachment.



The year I turned twelve we were on vacation in Colorado way up in the mountains at a place with cabins along the Platte River. On my birthday Dad took me to Denver to go shop for a present.  At that time I was an avid reader of Seventeen magazine and noticed that May D & F had a store in Denver so that is where we went so I could be like those girls in Seventeen magazine.  I think I got a bathing suit but that was only half the story of the day.  The couple who owned the cabins were vegan and they cooked us dinner complete with a cake.  Their son, who was close to my age, gave me a necklace which I still have.

At fourteen I felt so grown up that I decided I wanted my birthday party to be on television.  Tulsa had a dance party on every Saturday afternoon.  Mom made the arrangements and I invited friends.  To me it was almost as great as being on American Bandstand. Of course I was so mature I asked one of my brother Paul's friends, two years older to go as my "date".  The very cute guy actually said yes until the morning of the event at which time he called with some feeble excuse about hurting his foot.  Oh, the buckets of tears that flowed and the swollen eyes.  I thought my life was ruined until all of a sudden he showed up to go.  Did my brother Paul and his friend George Highfill actually threaten to break his leg if he did not show up? It was fun even though my eyes were so swollen from crying I could hardly see and on my very first date when we got to my house he told me I was a girl every boy would want for a sister. Not quite what I wanted to hear!

On my sixteenth birthday everyone went to work leaving no trace of a cake or presents.  I felt so sorry for myself I rode my bike to the store and made my own cake.  About the time the cake was done Pat Mackey next door showed up with a cake for me and Mom arrived home with one from the bakery.  Wow! Three birthday cakes.  Dad arrived home driving a 1954 red Chevy convertible for me.  The day that started out as the worst birthday ever turned into the best.

At seventeen there was the presentation of the guitar I had been dreaming about and at eighteen new luggage to take to college. So why all the discussion about great birthdays? Probably because I was so "birthday spoiled" by my parents it was always hard getting married to find out other people, Dennis, believed it was just another day.  Presents were not important. Did no one realize that I thought I should really be allowed to celebrate the entire month of June for my birthday and not hear someone say they did not have time to get a card?

Fast forward to June 15, 1984. My thirty-eighth birthday.  The moving truck came early and I cleaned as they emptied the house that I never wanted to leave.  Neighbors dropped by to say goodbye and somehow I held back the tears so my eyes did not swell up the way they did at fourteen. The Ford van we had was loaded with the two cats in their cage and all the things I thought we would need for a few weeks in the hotel.  Did anyone pay attention to the fact that it was my birthday?  No, it was just moving day again.  Funny that moving from Kansas City to New Jersey was on Halloween night with two kids crying because they could not go trick or treating. I figured that the next time we moved Dennis would pick Christmas Day.

Driving along the endless Pennsylvania turnpike the subject up my birthday came up.  Somewhere we pulled off for my birthday dinner at a Red Lobster.  The reason I remember that so well is because when I was eating my baked potato I found a huge clot of dirt right in the middle of it. I must say that that was rather interesting as to how the dirt managed to be in the middle of the potato.  Perhaps it was a sign.
Perhaps it just added to the worst birthday ever.....or would that really be the worst birthday ever?

We arrived in Detroit or actually Farmington Hills sometime in the middle of the night.  Travelling with Dennis you never stopped for the night at a hotel - that was too much trouble - just drive all night to get to where you need to get to. At least Ford was going to pay for two rooms so all four of us, two cats, my bicycle and clothes for a few weeks were not all stuffed into one room. 

On the 584 mile trip from Riverton New Jersey there was a lot of time for me to be angry about my situation and a lot of time to think about how I managed to get myself into not being part of the decision making on anything except how a house was decorated.  I know that Paul, Kenny and I all took after our Dad in being the best in the world at being non confrontational.  I had learned within the first few days of being married to Dennis that there was never going to be a way for me to win an argument.  That disagreeing with him on anything only resulted in me being stupid.  This behavior on my part only gave him more power over me. The worse part is that I only became more unhappy as I tried to keep him happy.

Somewhere along those 584 miles my little brain clicked and I realized I was doing a lot to create my own misery and perhaps it was time to change course.  The light bulb really clicked on bright when we drove over to see the new house and the stage of construction it was in.


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