Birthdays are overrated. Although it could be argued that simply because I usually don’t celebrate birthdays, it doesn’t mean it’s overrated. As Ted Failon said in jest, why would I spend tons of money to entertain my family and friends during my birthday? Why can’t they make little contributions to give me a treat? It’s my birthday for crying out loud.
I’m kidding, of course (though some say jokes are always half-meant). Birthdays are important events in our lives. It’s the day when we came flailing to meet the world. Maybe we feel blessed and lucky to be born in this world. Or maybe we have this delusion that the world is lucky that we were born. Either way, we celebrate our birthdays.
We appreciate the simple things in life as we get older. It could very well be the other way around, I realized, as we may be enthralled by all the shiny things that life could offer. But no matter how we fare, we somethings long for the simpleness that once pervaded our lives. Keane is probably thinking of this when he sang, “Oh, simple thing, where have you gone? I’m getting old and I need something to rely on” (Somewhere Only We Know).
When I was young my parents would ask me what I want for my birthday (and because kids are our parents’ karma to us, I strongly fear that would repeat itself with my son). Now that I’m old nobody cares to ask what I want for my birthday. Everybody simply assumes that I like whiskey or wine. Good assumption, except that my doctor (and my wife) forbids me to drink like the way I used to.
I received only two gifts for my birthday this year. One is from my father-in-law, a bottle of whiskey. The other is from my 3-year old son. It’s a simple gift made from materials provided free when you eat in a restaurant — a pad of paper and some abused crayons. Here’s the gift . . .
It reads: Haapy Birthday Big Guy Dad, Love. . . That’s a simple gift, yet priceless.
