Happy Birthday to Me

When my sister-in-law, Mary, offered to host a birthday party for me, my initial reaction was, “Whom would I invite?”

Three years ago I moved back to Texas after living in distant parts of the U.S. for more than 50 years. Besides Mary and my brother Don, the only people I had met in this Dallas suburb were Mary’s friends and relatives. But my friends? I have two excellent neighbors and two friends I met at the senior center. That adds up to four. Enough for a party? To celebrate my 80th birthday?

Then I thought of all the people I’ve known for more than 60 years who live within a couple of hours drive. Some of them I have not seen since I returned to Texas. I gave Mary a list of 35 names. We decided Mary’s beautiful house did not have room for that many people. Mary sent out the invitations, and we waited to hear if anyone would want to see me bad enough to make the trip to my house.

On Saturday, the day before the party, plans were my son David and my daughter Martha to arrive at DFW Airport within 30 minutes of each other. When David’s flight from California landed on time, we learned that Martha’s plane was still on the ground at O’Hare in Chicago. To meet her final arrival in late afternoon required a second 80-mile round trip by car (40 miles each way from Garland to the airport.) Did that snafu portend mixups at the party? I was so glad to see my kids, I did not worry.

Don and Mary set up for the party, putting both leaves in the dining table, where Mary spread the freshly ironed blue tablecloth. Don unpacked 40 punch cups and the cut glass punch bowl (simply gorgeous!) which belonged to Mary’s mother. Mary set out yellow plates and napkins, while Don hung a “Happy Birthday” banner over the wide doorway between dining area and den. An enormous chocolate cake (a full sheet) was decorated with blue and yellow flowers. The centerpiece of yellow roses and daisies with blue delphinium and hydrangeas was a gift from my daughter Martha. The caterer arrived with punch, little sandwiches (chicken, cucumber, and seafood), and a large cut glass compote filled with strawberries, a perfect compliment for Mary’s pedestal punch bowl. We were ready to party.

Guests arrived. Twenty-six in all, to sit on chairs, upholstered and folding, in the open area which stretches from my living room through to the add-on den. They came from Rockwall, Dallas, Fort Worth, Denton, Decatur, and even Wichita Falls. . If you are unfamiliar with Texas, this may not mean much to you. But I was thrilled to have celebrating with me in my house all these old friends – friends who have kept in touch for more than 60 years and who also are simply old, all being in their 80th year.

Norma wrote, “Ilene, isn’t it fun all of us turning 80 at the same time?” Fun? Being 80 is not fun physically. All of us have health problems Many no longer drive, certainly not the 60 miles or more through city traffic to come to Garland. Sally, my friend since high school (we graduated in 1946) lives on a farm near Decatur, her daughter Amy brought her. Emmy’s daughter came from her weekend house at Eagle Mountain Lake to bring from Fort Worth four “girls” who have been my friends since we met in college (Texas Woman’s University classes of 1949 and 1950).

Fun? We all had great fun at my party. I enjoyed every minute. Marjorie admitted she made the effort to come for the opportunity to meet Charlie. In the midst of the confusion, Don drug him out from under the bed. Charlie stayed behind Marjorie’s chair and let her scratch his head.

What a birthday! The party was just the beginning. Stacks of cards came from friends who live too far to come to the party. I treasure every one. And telephone calls. From Joan in South Texas, Gertrude in New York, Nancy in Illinois, Doris in New Mexico, and John’s sister in Pennsylvania. I feel blessed, loved, honored, and deeply grateful for EACH of these wonderful people who care about me. One advantage of living 80 years is getting to know and love, and be loved, by many true friends.

They may not be ready for “Dancing with the Stars,” but my friends are still walking. Only one came to the party leaning on a cane. They still have a zest for life. To anyone who dreads getting old: STOP! Enjoy each day. . . and, when you have a birthday, CELEBRATE!