The Birthday

The Birthday

 Why is it that some birthdays bother you far more than others? It was my 69th birthday. Not one I was looking forward to, so appropriately I planned nothing. My first preference would have been to sleep through it. But failing that, I thought I would sit in my living room with a nice glass of wine, ponder the mysteries of life and how I got this old. How I could have made it this far. The last year of my seventh decade, and what was to follow the next year didn’t bear thinking about. Neither of my parents lived for very long after passing the 70 year mark. But my son called a few days before the big non-event, said that he had a ticket to the Phillies game with my name on it. How could I refuse? My grandchildren would be there as well as my daughter-in-law. My son warned that our seats were in the nose-bleed section, where an introduction to the body’s adjustment to high altitude breathing is not required, but should be. He joked that I might have a better view of the game from my house. He was right about that. By the time I dragged my soon-to-be 69 year-old body to the 300th level, I was in need of serious oxygen.

The Phillies played the Cubs that night. They beat them badly the night before, 11 - 1. Given that, I had no expectation that this would be an exciting game. But it was a clear night with a warm, gentle breeze, so unusual for an August summer night. Our seats provided a stunning view of the Philadelphia skyline if not the ball field. I sat for several moments and just absorbed the view. I watched the lights of the city come up at dusk and thought, a fine birthday.

Dinner was a lukewarm hotdog on a semi-stale bun. Perfect. I retrieved it from under the lights at the ‘Philly Treats’ kiosk. Chased down with a Budlight, it was the perfect birthday meal.

The Phillies offer on request a birthday package. I knew this because my son arranged a birthday surprise two years ago for my grandson. The team provides the birthday boy or girl with a Phillies hat, a Phillies logo cape with the words ‘It’s my Birthday’ emblazoned on it. A woman comes to your section, and with great fanfare gives you the hat and cape. She then throws a lot of confetti around, and with a ton of encouragement gets the surrounding attendees to sing Happy Birthday. My at-the-time four year-old grandson was delighted with the display. 

As I was basking in the warm summer night more or less paying attention to the game, which the Phillies as I had predicted are losing, my daughter-in-law, rather than a stranger, appeared with my bright fire-engine red Phillies hat and birthday cape. It was a lovely surprise, and I was pleased that they had gone to so much trouble. Being a good birthday sport, I put on my hat and cape, feeling conspicuous. My son then explained, with great regret, that the Phillies were over-booked for the birthday celebrations for the evening, so there would be no confetti or singing. I know he was disappointed, but inwardly I was relieved. I could do without the singing and confetti. Being the center of attention while a large number of strangers serenaded me was not an appealing prospect.

Sometime later I decided it was time to stretch my legs, maybe check out the concession stand again. Filling as the ballpark frank was, I was feeling hungry. I started to get up, but my son stopped me.

“No, you can’t leave now. The birthday list is about to start.”

"oh, ok." I sat back down.

The birthday list displays on the Citizens Bank Park’s Jumbotron, a massive screen that provides massive amounts of information - the score, of course, player stats, periodic games for the kids, replays, and the birthday list. Sure enough, a few minutes later the birthday list appeared and started scrolling.

‘The Philadelphia Phillies Birthday Salute"

Amy Adamson……. 4 years old

Chris Jenkins……….7 years old

John Lynch……………10 years old

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Lynda Moore………100 years old

100!!! 100 years old!!!! Surely my eyes were deceiving me. My mouth dropped open. I quickly scanned our section to see if anyone was looking at me and wondering if I was the 100-year-old birthday girl. I was wearing the ‘It’s my Birthday’ cape after all. I looked around, but no one seemed to be paying any special attention to me. My son, doubled over and laughing, was in very deep trouble. He had no idea how much. When he finally stopped laughing, he told me the story of how he arranged for my surprise.

When he called the Phillies box office to order the birthday package, he gave my information and then told them I was turning 100. 

“One hundred!!” the man exclaimed. “We don’t get many one hundred birthday celebrations at the Park. Are you sure 100? I hope I have enough digits to light that up!”

And light it up they did. I celebrated my 100th birthday that night with 42,345 of my closest friends at Citizens Bank Park.

But, as they say, he who laughs last.......

My son will turn 41 next month. Since my summer birthday surprise, I racked my brain to come up with an appropriate response. After checking with several lawn display companies, the ones that will place on the birthday person's lawn your choice of animal in an appropriate number, I decided to go a different route. I arranged for the delivery of fifty black and silver balloons. The largest balloons available. And among the balloons will be two 'number' ballons. The numbers will be '50,' and they will be two feet high. These balloons will be tied to his mailbox, in front of his house, where the neighbors will be able to admire them. And to wonder that Jason (my son), who looks so young, could be turning fifty years old.

Note: this story happened the summer of 2019 and spring of 2020, before Covid 19 stopped the world, stopped the celebration of birthdays, and stopped life as we knew it.