Birthdays

Friends, siblings, doggies are aging. Even I'm getting older. Of course, I'm thinking of all the peops I know who celebrate -- or don't -- this annual step towards maturity or Medicare.

I wanted to say that the collective birthdayers -- or 'we' -- are headed towards graying, but many of my friends aren't gray, or, perhaps those melanin-lacking hairs don't show for one reason or another. I need to mention the unintended step towards wrinkling, not in a bad, but because this is what age brings us. Most of my shriveling posse leans towards the contented side, which usually means they're not knitting their eyebrows together in typical angry fashion to earn those forehead wrinkles. They're a pleasant crew, aging well, aging steadily. I, too have discovered the facial caverns on myself: Crows feet from too much laughter may crevasse on the outer perimeter of eyes, but again, this results from smiling, not bitterness nor a history of (ew, yuck!) smoking, although I may admit I am headed toward a juvenile version of elderhood.

Basco's ten years old. A good age for a doggie. I'd say a great age for a dog who went blind three years ago. He's graying a bit, mostly on his hind legs, just over his knees. He's always been an old soul, even when he was a puppy he had a gently whitened, muzzle. He seemed okay with whatever life presented to him. I'd like to age gracefully like him.

Mom made sure that each of us celebrated our birthday, one way or another. My brother John was usually shafted: his day fell in mid-December when most of us had school plays, concerts, and other events that trumped his special day.

Mom's birthday was one never to be missed. She wasn't the biggest fan of Mother's Day, thinking it a useless reminder of her motherhood. But her birthday? Never Forget her day. Never. Call, send a card (in advance), order flowers or a gift to arrive early or on the day of. She loved yellow roses, but as an 8 y/o, I stole her heart when I gave her a bouquet of 3 dozen pink carnations which the florist sold me for a wrinkled dollar. I'm certain I looked like a street urching and he simply wanted me out of his boutiquey store.

She once said to me that celebrating her birthday was a way to show her she mattered, that she was loved, that we honored her presence. Her day is coming up and believe me, even at rest, I know that she's hoping for us to toast her on May 22nd. I will. I always do.

Alas, the birthday is unavoidable. It arrives a mere 12 months just after the last one. Even if those around us do so, it's one of those dates that we simply cannott forget, unlike Jury Duty obligations or the semi-annual dental appointment.

Thus, I suggest we toast the day of aging. Raise a glass to those who are avoiding another year and to those who embrace the day (or month) of their birth. Glad you're here getting old with me. I raise a tasty, frothy beer to each of you and to those whose birthdays are upcoming. Many good wishes and best of luck during your year.