The pandemic has made so many things different this year, and usually unpleasantly so.
Just ask any parent trying to invent “school” at home. There’s the hassle of connecting their suddenly stay-at-home children to a remote learning environment where the teacher is as inexperienced in Zooming as the students themselves. The frustration of adding “schedule house wi-fi time” to the task list, while removing “schedule soccer practice/dance class/playdates.”
But for real unhappiness, little beats the sadness of downgrading a birthday party from full-on, pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey, blow-out-the-candles celebration to a drive-by procession of kids in cars. Tying balloons on the front fence helps… But “keep your distance” is a gloomy message to have to include in the party invitation.
Many of us past the age of say 30 proclaim, “Oh, birthdays don’t matter to me — I never celebrate them any more.” We send the honoree a card, a polite and friendly gesture. Perhaps a gift if we’re closer than acquaintances. The celebrant might go out for a special dinner with a few special people, hoping that no one tipped off restaurant staff that we’re celebrating a birthday.
We remain 29 unless the birthday is one of those milestones we can’t ignore: 40, 50, 65. (Which will likely be made worse by the follow-up question, “And are you planning to retire soon?”) The intervening years blend into one plodding series of steps to aging. Was it the year I turned 48 or 49 that the orthopedist recommended knee replacement? Was I 56 or 57 the year my father-in-law died? At the end of the day, it doesn’t much matter to us. We were younger then than we are now, not necessarily something we want to holler about.
Then, everything changes
But there’s a tipping point as one enters the realm of old-old. Once past four-score years (that would be “80” for you Lincoln fans), the world sits up and takes notice of our birthdays. The White House will send the birthday super-senior a congratulatory letter with a gold crest. At 90, most state governors and assorted prime ministers will send a greeting suitable for framing. As for centenarians, Her Majesty the Queen will send one of her subject’s a noble birthday message (and a follow-up on his or her 105th birthday). Applicants are, however, sternly warned that “a representative from the Department for Work and Pensions may wish to arrange a visit to see the celebrant before their birthday” — presumably to make sure you’re not a 99-year-old gaming the system.
Unless you’re by nature a curmudgeon, it’s hard not to be a little bit pleased by some attention. Yes! Layer on those candles, sing the birthday song out loud! Achieving great age is an accomplishment, especially if you’ve done so with good humor despite the aches, pains and inevitable losses.
Light up another candle
This week marked a milestone birthday for one dear friend and one of those “which year?” birthdays for my mother. Like those kids whose birthdays have devolved into parent-chauffeured drive-bys, both their birthday celebrations were changed by the pandemic.
Social distancing is the antithesis of the socializing birthdays call for. Dropping a bag of gifts and cards at a doorstep is a poor substitute for swanky cocktails in our favorite waterside bar. No number of namaste bows will be as satisfying as one good, old-fashioned hug. And with residential homes returning to lockdown as coronavirus surges, I’ll likely have to watch my dear mama blow out the 97 candles from out on the porch.
The consolation? Both friend and family are still there to celebrate.
Banner photo by Zenia Love from Pexels