If the convenience stores and pharmacies can sell Christmas merchandise in October, I can damn well celebrate my birthing experience on more than a single day.
My mom was super pregnant with me for a long time and had a few false starts at labor which could have led to my birth on any June or July day – but the delivery (what a pristine word for such a brutal process) date was the 16th of July.
We go to the event which took place in Princeton, WV, instead of my hometown of Narrows, VA, since mom was very pregnant but spunky and wanted to go shopping. I was not born IN Kresge's, but did leave a warm, watery mess for someone to clean up. We did manage to make it to Princeton Memorial Hospital, not General Hospital by any means.
I was a “live birth” and was able to go home pretty quickly. They did not ask me about hanging on to my foreskin, though we were not Jewish and I think I have a vague memory of wanting to smack somebody for being rude to me and my parts.
You have to know I loved nursing. My mom was great at it and there was just something about the warmth, the heartbeat and the … mind your business.
I have had 61 birthdays prior to this one and some have been cool and others have been less than cool.
I never cared for birthday cake – preferring, if you can imagine a 6 year-old having a preference, Boston Cream Pie. Dark Chocolate and the creamy pudding in the middle of grand sponge cakes. Hmmmmm and yum. Mom made them from scratch, of course, because Duncan Hines had not yet met Betty Crocker.
My favorite foods were mom's spaghetti, her fine salads, potato salad and the love she put into her cooking.
Then we would play and there might be presents or not – but no matter, it was still a party.
When the Glen Lyn 4H Club was formed we had special birthday celebrations for every one of our 5 members. Dress up, cook up, eat up and party down as best as we were able.
On some birthdays my significant seniors would pass along important items like pocket knives, guns, shoeshine kits, tools and knowledge.
I have my grandfather's mother-of-pearl “church” pocket knife he gave me when I turned 21. It is a treasure that will go, along with the story, to one of the grandsons.
There came a time that, because of my proficiency in calligraphy, people would not send me birthday cards. Pity. I am not judgmental except for the crap Hallmark prints.
The twins even got to the point that they knew I could always use AA or AAA batteries or some picture frames or some fine HP printing paper and these made fine presents along with black shirts and black Hanes underwear.
Spending time and talking with these wonderful grown-up offspring and their children and spouses is the BEST year-round gift of all.
This year, my best friend did bestow on me a beautiful book. Another thing people who don't understand me fear to do. I am a book lover and love people who love me enough to give me a book. Lover.
This is a special edition of a volume I have read and studied, but never owned. It is signature, sewn bound, and has gilt edges. Gold edges keep dust and insects from invading manuscripts since the gold sheets adhere to each other and form an airtight bond. The book suits the hand and fills the heart and it came from a heart that cares.
The book jacket is grand and the contents will be a pleasure to read again – with 40 years of the lenses of life to peer through at the words.
So, what is left for the 16th and beyond is the need for TWO HOT DOGS, maybe a Hot and Now Krispy Kreme or 3 and the colored pencils with which to color in the empty spaces remaining on the majestic and wonderful image that is my LIFE, so far. © tim www.timjohnsonphoto.com
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