Happy Birthday

My birthday is coming very soon. And unlike Armageddon, it really is just right around the corner.

33.

It doesn't bother me. In fact, I'm feeling kind of indifferent about the whole thing. Its not like 33 was a bad year for Jesus, no?

The fact is I just don't get into birthdays too much. If my friends forget, if it slips by without phone calls from family, no biggie. I savor the surprise cards that come in the mail for no reason, the impromptu phone conversations that end up being the best.

What I was told growing up is that every time someone celebrated a birthday in the bible, someone died, usually gruesomely. Usually something that involved an axe and a silver tray.

Birthdays and holidays, especially at school, were a minor annoyance growing up. Yeah, I wanted to do the things everyone else did. But I tried not to dwell on it for long because wanting it badly was the same as getting/doing it in the eyes of Jehovah-- or so I was told. And of course that meant falling out of favor. No, it tended to be the awkward situations that surrounded my having to avoid holidays that I remember. I was like the Larry David of every school I went to. I just made people uncomfortable.

I blame penny-loafers. At least in part. Those stupid shoes eliminated the chance to have friends at school more times than I could count. Mom tended to dress me up on days that were "worldly" or on other occasions that would single me out more than was already possible for a JW kid.

So for my kindergarten Cinco de Mayo celebration, we had a pinata, which, of course, I was not allowed to take a whack at. I could, according to the rules my mom made up under guidance from the WBTS, stand on the outside of the circle of children. And on the off-chance that a stray piece of candy happened to escape the circle and fly by me, I could get it. So there I was, slip-sliding all over the classroom in my penny-loafers diving after the occasional piece of bubble gum. Jehovah was cool with that-- just don't hit the pinata. This memory comes back every time I walk into a Party City and look up.

I remember when mom said it was okay that I went to a pep rally at school. For her, this was major progress. Pep rallies had traditionally been taboo. So when she gave the green light, I was there. It was like the kindergarten pinata incident. Our mascot was the Big Red Elephant. So the cheerleaders would throw packs of Big Red gum into the bleachers. It makes more sense than some of the stuff I heard growing up. I was not allowed to catch that gum.

I appreciate holidays now for what they are-- a chance to connect with others. And in an odd sort of way, I can be just as comfortable with those who might forget my birthday as I am with some JW family who choose to ignore it ever happened.

By this age I was supposed to have a family in the New System. Maybe some chickens, a garden, an elephant or two (of the red variety, perhaps).
Can we have a pinata?

My birthday is just as much my mother's as it is mine. I wonder if I can have flowers delivered to the Hall of Kingdoms.

Happy Birthday, mom. And if you're reading this, try not to lose your head.