My Birthday Party

     Having recently celebrated a birthday, memories of past birthdays came to mind. Fortunately for me, as a young child growing up in my Brooklyn home, birthdays were mostly a family affair.  Instead of a party with my friends, I just had a “family party” and that was more than enough for me.

Truth is, I wasn’t too crazy about going to my friends’ parties. I always found the games intimidating. Especially when they played two games that caused me a lot of anxiety, Pin the Tail on the Donkey and Musical Chairs.

     Pin the Tail on the Donkey was a frightening and embarrassing pursuit. You know the game but let me bring it back to you. Picture a bunch of kids sequestered in a wood paneled basement festooned with crepe paper garlands hanging from the ceiling. An adult blindfolded you and spun you around until you were so dizzy you immediately regretted eating that second piece of birthday cake. They handed you a paper tail with a thumbtack stuck in it, which at this young age felt so wrong. With their hands firmly on your sweaty shoulders they aimed you towards a wall where a big poster of a happy innocent looking burrow awaited his tail. As the giggles commenced (and maybe even a few not so nice taunts) you wobbled your way towards the wall in hopes of hitting the appropriate anatomy on the donkey. At this point the kids are laughing hysterically and you would give anything to be back home alone; watching Leave it to Beaver and eating a Hostess cupcake. This was a nightmare. I never got the tail on the right spot; however, I did pin it in the center of the donkey’s eye once; that’s not easy to do.

     If this game didn’t have me faking a stomachache and asking to call my mother, Musical Chairs certainly could push me over the edge. I hated the game. It brought out the worst in kids. Even my best friend would turn on me to get in that damn chair. Ten kids walking around a line of 9 chairs (facing in opposite directions to up the ante) and when the music stopped, BAM! Everyone scrambled to sit in a chair. The one who was left standing was out of the game and inevitably that would be me. Sometimes, I’d plan it that way right in round one so I wouldn’t have to prolong the humiliation. Get it over with, I thought. Once I was out, I’d watch in horror, as kids would hip check each other to get in a chair. When it was down to two players and one chair, I couldn’t even look.

     So, what was my “family party” like?

    At this party there were enough chairs for everyone. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, baby cousins, sisters, parents and myself. There was no Pin the Tail on the Donkey so I could eat two pieces of cake without worry and it’s a good thing because the cake was a big deal.  It was always purchased from one of the many spectacular Brooklyn bakeries.

     My favorite kind of cake was vanilla with a chocolate pudding in the middle covered in fresh whipped cream and adorned with roses made from pink frosting.  Happy Birthday Nina was always beautifully written in fancy script on top. I can still remember seeing the big white box on the kitchen counter. I was allowed to cut the thin string that held the top closed and peek inside. Once my grandpa took my finger and swiped it across the side of the cake gathering up a huge dollop of cream. He motioned to me to eat it up before anyone saw us. It was our secret and when the cake arrived on the table with a whipped cream dent, he winked at me. This made my birthday that much more special!

     Some kids had lots of friends at their parties, I had my elders, and they were entertaining for sure.  Listening to adult conversation, the jokes and the laughs and even the arguments felt comfortable. This was the sixties and there were ashtrays and Coca cola on the table. I can still hear their voices singing “Happy Birthday to Nina” and when it came time to make a wish, they wouldn’t hesitate to give me their sage advice as to what I should wish for. Little did I know then that wishing for a new Barbie or white go-go boots was nothing compared to the blessings I had around the dining room table.

     After opening gifts, my parents encouraged me to stand at the head of the table and thank everyone for coming to my party. My dad would whisper to me and jokingly tell me to say, “I hope to see you all next year with bigger and better gifts.”  Everyone would laugh hysterically knowing that my dad put me up to it.  As funny as that was, I hope they knew I just meant the first part. “I hope to see you all next year.” 

      As the years passed, I wasn’t always able to see everyone the next year or the next. That’s the unfortunate reality of life. But the memories of these get togethers are enough to remind me of wonderful times. I realize now, we weren’t just celebrating a birthday, we were celebrating the day the family got bigger by one more and that’s what “family parties” are all about.