Birthday Presence

In 8th grade, my best friend threw a surprise birthday party for me, and it really blew my mind when about thirty kids from school jumped out to shout, “Surprise!” because I was pretty sure most of them hated me. Besides one girl getting freaked out by the Ouija board, the main thing I remember about the night was my shock that all these people would show up to celebrate me. I wish I’d understood the big lesson of that experience back when I was fourteen, but sad to say I’m still working on it: there may be a couple bullies it’s best to avoid, but for the most part, people are benign at worst, and more likely benevolent, and if they come across as self-conscious or stand-offish, it’s their own insecurities at play, not a comment on me.

I’ve had fifty-six birthdays, and though my family taught me that birthdays are cause for a party, only a few of them stand out in detail. In the tween years, a group of girls came over for a sleepover and we played dress-up and laughed uproariously at personalized MadLibs created by my father, and ate cake baked by my mother. My dad and I were in London when I turned 15, and I was touched and awed by a beautiful little bakery cake he brought to our hotel. When I turned 22, the gathering was a mob of people at my punk rock alcoholic boyfriend’s music studio, and a birthday cake I made for myself. I was in Nepal for my 29th, but don’t recall a thing about it. At 30, again I baked myself a cake and a small group gathered at Jonji’s yoga studio to chant together. The hardest birthday was 40 - crossing a decade when you’re in despair does not a happy birthday make.

However, by 50 I’d left that reality and wanted to do something special, so I asked a few women to join me in the Adirondacks. We had an unforgettable time: we put on our microspikes and climbed a small but icy mountain, a first for some of them; we put on evening gowns and lit up the casual dining hall; we played music in the great room in front of the fire, read Tarot, opened our hearts to each other and delved deep. Safe to say it was the best weekend any of us had in 2020.

It requires a bit of gumption to ask people in October if they want to commit to spending a weekend in early January, on their own dime, at the rather funky ADK Loj, where they will eat, share a bathroom, and sleep with strangers, some of whom will definitely snore. But I have extended the invitation a couple times in the intervening years, and several friends have honored me with their presence each time, which brings me to my knees with gratitude and astonishment. These strong, beautiful, creative, resilient, extraordinary humans remind me how very not alone we are. Sometimes it takes a little energy to reach out and make things happen, but simple human connection is the best gift any of us has.

Also, I stopped making birthday cake for myself years ago. There’s a lesson in that, too, about relinquishing control - though miraculously, one seems to show up every year, which makes me love my friends even more.