Just got back from a birthday party. That’s right. A birthday party. December 24th . How rotten is that! Sharing your birthday every year of your life with the most celebrated name in the western world. Credit cards maxed out , and it is your birthday. I wonder what Chinese cracker jack toys he got as presents when he was little. Can’t imagine a worse time to be born! Who went to his tenth , eleventh or twelfth birthday? And imagine the night he was born. Sixty years ago. Nurses and doctors working on Christmas eve? Did they get overtime back then? At least today they are smiling in aniticipation of the nice check their sacrifice will earn them. But 60 years ago did he slide into the light in a shroud of guilt? Oh Excuse me. You are missing Christmas Eve with your kids? I’ll just crawl back in there and wait till after N ew Years. Poor child! He’s already lost the competition if he tries to outshine Jesus Christ.
No one puts a tree up for him in December . And with that light bill and the cost of Christmas decorations, he is lucky to have candles for the cake. My advice to a Christmas baby ? Take the Christmas gift you would have gotten anyway and count your lucky stars there is no manger in the area. You’re lucky anyone remembers your day at all.
Just imagine all the scarred people who have birthdays in December.
Anyway the party was very nice. The birthday boy turned 60 today, a very special occasion. Very special ocassion. Pension here I come. Yeah ! I can afford candles.
Anyway so much for him. It is me I am here to talk about. Me and aging.
Let me say. I was the oldest person at the party. Chronologically that is . Actually having a very healthy and active ego I thought there were others who were older than me. And I couldn’t understand why there was no surprise when I very subtly let drop my age. Why I even engaged several very young , twenty plus year olds in conversation, which lasted a good half hour or so. They seemed happy to talk about themselves. Who isn’t ? And one thing I am really good at is getting people to talk. Plus there are definitely advantages to being old. Nobody thinks you are prying when you ask questions because they figure you don’t have many years left . Their secrets are safe with you and will probably go no further than the grave.
The martinis were really good too.
Ah those martinis were really good. There I go repeating myself again. I never did see the bottom of my glass because Birthday Boy made sure it never saw daylight. And two hours later I managed to veto inner wish to crawl out the front door in favour of walking out under my own steam. Now I am home. It is 11:45. In 15 minutes there will be another birthday celebration . But I will join that party around the tree at dawn. Good night. God bless! Happy Birthday. Never mind Merry Christmas. Happy Birthday.
Did I say the martinis were good?