A couple of weeks ago, my oldest son, Tom, had a birthday: he turned 56 years old. But did I mark it with him somehow? I did not. These days, I’ve practically forgotten when most of my family’s birthdays are.
In my opinion, birthday celebrations are only for children and children. I told my five grandchildren that I would remember their birthdays until they were 21, but not after. All but one have surpassed that milestone.
When they were kids, my sons Tom and Will were almost sick with excitement when their birthdays approached. But now, well, they’re middle-aged men and more likely to regard a new birthday with a foreboding.
The childish aspect of birthdays is highlighted by the singing of that children’s song, Happy Birthday To You. This song, if you can call it that, celebrated its centenary on March 4 of this year and will apparently never go away.
Liz Hodgkinson has told her relatives to “forget about birthdays”. Pictured: Victoria Beckham leaving her big 50th birthday party on her husband David’s back.
The tune was originally composed by American sisters Mildred and Patty Hill, who ran a kindergarten where, every day, they led their students to sing a short jingle, Good Morning To All.
In 1924, it became the tune for Happy Birthday and became a bonanza for the Hill family, as they and their descendants made a fortune from music royalties.
In that sense, something else to fear is when someone’s birthday is celebrated in a restaurant and you hear a raucous rendition of Happy Birthday from the (usually) drunk celebrants and often the staff while holding a cake with lit candles on it. top.
And is there anything worse than the surprise birthday party, where you innocently arrive at someone’s house only to be greeted by masses of balloons and a crowd gathered singing Happy Birthday? I warned my family that if they ever dared to inflict this ordeal on me, I would return straight home.
In my opinion, birthday celebrations are for children and only children, writes Liz Hodgkinson. I told my five grandchildren that I would remember their birthdays only until I was 21 years old.
The farce of adult birthdays hit home many years ago, when distant relatives, most of whom I never met, would dutifully send me birthday cards and sometimes gifts, always days or weeks late. If you are going to celebrate someone’s birthday, it has to be that day.
In the end I came out and told them, let’s forget about birthdays. This meant I didn’t have to try to remember theirs either, and there was a huge sigh of relief all around. Birthday wishes were never received or sent again.
My ex-husband, however, maintains an attachment to his birthday. Since I invariably forget the date, he will make me feel guilty by calling me and singing Happy Birthday To Me. In vain I tell him that his birthday has not been on my mind since we separated 35 years ago.
But perhaps the most annoying thing of all when it comes to birthdays is that almost every day I see a Facebook notification informing me that it is the birthday of one of my ‘friends’, many of whom I have accepted a friend request from, due to a mutual relationship. connection, but they have never met. To make matters worse, I am often asked to contribute to their favorite charity. To avoid this embarrassment, I have been careful not to reveal my date of birth on social media.
My neighbors downstairs are Jehovah’s Witnesses and say that in their faith birthdays are never celebrated.
In my opinion, they have the right idea.
