I created a small children’s theatre troupe with some pals in Vermont during my college days, wonderful and talented rapscillions were they. Sweet, wry, musical Tom sadly died of AIDS over a decade or more ago, David I saw 12 years ago and is in New York, creating festive Ukrainian Gypsy Shows off Broadway, Paul I lost touch with though I think is still in New England playing music, and Leslie, (affectionately named ‘Bean’), is still a dear friend who took up with a horseman and moved to the windy plains of Illinois. Lovely folks all.
My favorite song that we all wrote and which I remember each time I have a birthday, was called, ‘It’s Your Birthday,’ (not to be confused with another favorite birthday song penned by the Beatles). This song went as follows, (the parts I remember),
It’s your birthday, yes it’s your birthday,
It’s your birthday who caaaaaaaares………
if the rain does fall upon us,
we will sing until next Auuuuuuuugust.’Okay, despite our no doubt sophmoric song writing abilities… (we did have a ball)….the part I always loved was, ‘it’s your birthday, whooooo cares.’
I have a birthday this time of year and ironically or not, some of my closest friends do too. I’m not sure why I still get a little excited about my birthday. It could be the memory of that very early morning call from my mom who til the year she died would HAVE to be the first to call and siiiiiing; I could feel her smile and though she wasn’t a particularly good singer, it didn’t matter one bit. She would exude how grateful she was I was born and ask about my day ahead and tease me that a gift was on the way to me, as I had moved away from home just after high school.
It could be the memory of gifts as a kid or the special cake and candles. My mom would wake me with our dog Piper on the bed, (a little Westie)….always a sneaky treat as ‘Piper on the bed’ was a definite, ‘Dad no-no’. (He was off to work). My mom would always have a gift for me to open first thing in the morning, (in bed)! with more to come later in the day or at night. She made things special. Even having apples on a plate was called ‘an apple party’!
Maybe it’s the memory of something special planned from a dear friend or boyfriend or the messages from pals around the world who remember and honor you with a call, expressing in a sense, ‘hey, glad you were born’. And some years birthdays sort of pass like a little cloud, not particularly noticed in the sky. That’s okay! I like to consider the passing years and wonder about the years to come. Birthdays maybe are milestones??
Though, more often than not, I don’t think people really care so much about other people’s birthdays, except maybe the person having one.
In my thirties I started sending flowers to my mom on my birthday. I figured…she did all the hard work. She appreciated the sentiment.
Maybe I miss my mom more than anything on my birthday. She knew how to make me (people in general), feel special, to feel loved. She was a walking smile of positivity and sunshine. I loved having that example in my life. I loved having HER in my life. To this day I feel lifted up when people who knew her say I remind them of her. What a complement as she had qualities that clearly outshine mine.
She was a lady, always gracious, she never judged a soul, would be the first one to drop to the floor and play with animals or children and she was so damn funny. We’d stay up for hours playing gin rummy just laughing at silly things….life, people, ourselves. She had some tough blows in her life and somehow maintained her humor and her resolve, at least til close before she died.
So as I consider the years which have passed, and the ones to come, thank you Kitty Vogel, BB Webb’s mom, for waiting all those years for me to arrive, through all those tragedies and of course those two brothers you had to birth before me; thank you for doing such a good job of helping me onto the planet and for nurturing me, loving me SO WELL for all the years you were in physical form in my life…40 years of my life.
We had some swell memories.
Love from your favorite (and only), daughter.
Barbie Sue aka BB Webb