Thinking about Birthdays

I recently celebrated a birthday. The exact age doesn’t matter. Some might say I’m middle-aged. But the truth is that in all likelihood, I am well past half way. At best, I’m in the late middle. 

One of my favorite things in life is cake. I’m not going to start listing my favorite things here–that’s not what this is about–but let’s just say that cake would rank right up there, were I to make such a list. And I know it’s not a controversial stance to enjoy cake. It’s a commonly liked thing. The point is that I probably like it more than you do.

I’m not what you would call an easily-enthused person. I don’t readily express joy in visible ways. But I am capable of authentic rub-your-hands-together-in-anticipation excitement when I know there will be cake. The fact that I’m going on so much about it should give you a pretty good idea of what I’m talking about. Anyway, the extent to which I celebrate birthdays varies, but I usually find a way to at least have some cake.

This year–the last several years, in fact–I got the whole birthday song and candles treatment. It’s not a tradition I’m in love with to be honest, but I like to be a good sport and show appreciation for the effort. And it’s a small price to pay to clear a path to the cake. I’m sure you’re familiar with the routine. Before you blow out the candles, someone generally insists that you make a wish. This is always my favorite moment when it’s someone else’s birthday. I like to guess from their facial expressions whether they actually wished for something or if they just pretended to, and I like to think I’m pretty good at telling. Based on the lack of enthusiasm I’ve already expressed for the song and candles, you might have me figured for a pretender. But you’d be wrong. I always make a wish.

As a child I usually wished for things. I suppose that’s pretty common. Kids tend to want things, and I was no exception. As an adult, all I want to do is get rid of things. Funny how that flipped. It’s like we spend the first half of our lives desperately trying to accumulate stuff and the second half struggling to unload it all. One of my favorite pastimes is ruminating about the purpose of life. Maybe the purpose is to leave the world exactly the way you came into it–with zero possessions to your name–ideally in the presence of someone who loves you. 

Sometimes I remember old wishes. Three years ago, my birthday fell soon after I had started dating my girlfriend* (see footnote below). It was early going, but we’d been out enough times to know that I really liked her, so my wish was to “not do anything to screw it up.” For several years in a row, after my father had a major health scare, my stock wish was simply that my loved ones remain in good health. To those who know me well, it would come as no surprise that sometimes my wishes skew toward the existential. This year, for example, I wished to “do a better job of getting out of my own way.”

I could cynically dismiss the idea of making birthday wishes as trite or childish, but such cynicism is too easy. It lacks imagination. At my age, child-like behavior seems like something to run toward, not away from. The ability of very young children to unselfconsciously imagine and play is something most of us lose touch with all too completely in the name of “growing up.” Any opportunity to access some of that magic in adulthood is worth taking advantage of. Another way to view a birthday wish might be as a form of brief meditation (or prayer, if you prefer). It’s a chance to look inward, breathe, and focus on one positive thing to the exclusion of all else. Whatever way you choose to think about it–or perhaps better yet, not think about it–I’m going to keep wishing. And I hope you will too. Happy birthday.

*As a late-middle-aged man, I always feel a bit silly using the word “girlfriend,” but are there really any viable alternatives? “Partner” is so formal, “lover” is too intimate, and “lady friend” is just weird. I’m open to suggestions.