Last week I celebrated a birthday mentioned prominently in a Beatles’ song. For the next year, whenever somebody asks my age, I can simply reply, “Paul McCartney sings about it.” That should stump the employee at the Department of Motor Vehicles when I renew my driver’s license.
The next day I fielded more than a dozen “What did you do on your birthday?” questions from friends, relatives and co-workers. My responses always included the following:
1. I woke up and took some cold medication; necessary after spending a week aboard a cruise ship in Eastern Canada and realizing most of the passengers don’t take necessary precautions before touching the unlimited shrimp buffet spoon.
2. I donned my uniform as a food tour guide — a three year side hustle — and squired a group of tourists around Chicago’s Chinatown. I casually mentioned it was my birthday and the group serenaded me at the tour’s end. They also tipped well.
3. I immediately came home and napped on the couch. Credit the televised Presidents Cup golf match with helping me fall asleep.
4. I made a simple dinner.
5. I chatted by phone with my girlfriend, a term I’m still questioning as a recent divorcee. What does one call a new love interest after a certain age? Partner? Companion? “Her?” The jury has yet to reach a verdict.
6. I went to bed around 9:30 p.m.
When I recounted the day’s events to those who asked, their expressions said, “So you spent the day sick and (mostly) alone. How depressing.”
Quite the contrary. With the exception of the nagging cold, how perfect! And hardly, a forgotten birthday.
Birthdays Are the New New Year’s Eve
Birthdays, in my opinion, are approaching New Year’s Eve in terms of what needs to be done to avoid “loser” status. Ever tell someone you’re going to stay home alone on Dec. 31, watch old movies and be asleep before Ryan Seacrest even arrives in Times Square? Chances are they will look at you like you hope you don’t wake up on New Year’s Day.
The Gen Z crowd seems particularly enamored with their annual trips around the sun. Stroll down Michigan Avenue on a given day and, more often than not, you’ll encounter a giddy girl, wearing a tiara and a sash proclaiming, “IT’S MY BIRTHDAY.” She will accept birthday wishes from polite strangers, most doing so while silently wishing her friend would stop livestreaming every encounter so foot traffic could occur at a normal city pace.
I’ve never been one to seek that type of birthday attention, but maybe these kids realize the other extreme:
Silence.
That is truly the day that birthdays become depressing: When not a single person acknowledges your milestone.
When Nobody Says, “Happy Birthday”
Think about it…you wake up on your birthday and that’s the first thing you think about as your feet hit the floor. “Today is MY birthday.”
As you begin your day, maybe your mind flashes back to past celebrations. The first birthday sleepover your parents let you host; the co-workers who honored you with cake during the workday and drinks after; the time you came home to what you thought was an empty apartment, only to be greeted with “SURPRISE!” when you flipped on the lights.
You faintly smile at the memories, telling yourself that, with the possible exception of the sleepover, you felt self-conscious and embarrassed. You continue with your day.
However, by late afternoon, you realize you are STILL the only person who knows it’s your birthday. Do you wish to rectify that? If so, how? Do you sit at a bar, hope the bartender cards you and makes the connection? Do you eat, solo, at a restaurant offering a free birthday appetizer? Do you find that Gen Zer on Michigan Avenue and ask to borrow her birthday sash for an hour or two?
Why Two Simple Words Matter
As your day ends and you pull the covers up to your chin, you try and convince yourself birthdays are not a big deal. You don’t care if nobody wished you a happy one. But you do and that’s why you’re going to bed sad and depressed.
Because birthdays are that ONE day where you get to feel special, regardless of your current financial situation, marital issues or health woes. And that didn’t happen.
Birthdays aren’t about what you do for yourself. Deep down, they are about what others do for you. So thank you to the well wishers, the singers, the girlfriend and everybody else who acknowledged my special day. Two simple words were the best presents I could have asked for. I promise to reciprocate on your birthdays.
Now back to my nap.
