by Jean Mann
When I was growing up, birthdays in our house were fairly low-key by today’s standards. There were a few gifts, homemade spaghetti and meatballs for supper, and a friend or two over later for ice cream and cake. I shared my birthday with my twin brother.
I went away to school shortly before my 14th birthday. That year, I received a package with a few small gifts and lots of cards from family and friends since it was my first birthday away from home.
I was rarely home for my birthdays after that, and most of my gifts came from friends. My parents said it was hard to buy anything for me, because I usually went out and got myself whatever I needed or wanted. They were pretty frugal, so I never wanted to ask for anything expensive, but occasionally I, or they, came up with something special. Many years it was just a card and a phone call, and that was fine with me.
A few days before I turned 50, I got a call from my mother. She told me she didn’t want me to have to go to the bank to cash a check, so she was putting a 50-dollar bill in my card. She wanted me to be aware that it was coming. Normally I waited until somebody was around to read my mail before opening it, but that year I opened every card until I found that bill, and I put it away before anybody else saw it!
When I was turning 60, I asked her if she was going to send me $60. Instead, I got a card that said the following: “We read somewhere that over 9 million people are having a birthday today. So it didn’t seem fair to buy you a present and ignore all the others! Happy Birthday! Love, Dad and Mom!”