The Birthday Card

-
Today is Uncle Redacted’s birthday. 

How old he is EXACTLY, I'm not sure. 
He's over fifty, I know that. 

I got him a card, but I don't know what to write in it. 
It already says, "Have a Happy Birthday." 

The front of the card shows someone's hand just barely pressing a long, presumably sharp, needle to a large, red balloon. The inside of the card reads: "Have a Happy Birthday, or the balloon gets it!" 

Under that, I don't know what to write other than, "Love, Pop, Betty, and Howie." 

Pop and Betty don't yet know that I've purchased a card. I'm pretty sure they don't even know that it’s Uncle R.’s birthday. Pop can barely recall his own daughters’ birthdays, let alone those of his three sons-in-law. Yes, he’s old—older than most—but, to be clear, he’s not mentally diminished. Remembering birthdays and mailing cards was always Grandma’s job. 

Uncle R. lives one suburb to the south, so I'll just drive over and slip the card into his mailbox. 

Here’s the thing, I've known the guy my whole life, and even before I moved back north, Uncle R. invited me to join his family for a Thanksgiving feast at Lawry's (a ritzy restaurant just off Chicago's Magnificent Mile) every year. While I can't say that I enjoy dressing up for Thanksgiving and faking a life of affluence, it sure beats the hell out of a Swanson frozen Turkey Dinner with “Mostly White Meat.” 

But I don't know what to write in a simple birthday card. 

"Looking forward to Thanksgiving," maybe? 

April 29. 2004



Popular posts from this blog

A Very Brief Excerpt from “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow” by Washington Irving…

-
“I profess not to know how women’s hearts are wooed and won. To me they have always been matters of riddle and admiration. Some seem to have but one vulnerable point, or door of access; while others have a thousand avenues, and may be captured in a thousand different ways. It is a great triumph of skill to gain the former, but still greater proof of generalship to maintain possession of the latter, for the man must battle for his fortress at every door and window. He who wins a thousand common hearts is therefore entitled to some renown; but he who keeps undisputed sway over the heart of a coquette is indeed a hero.”
Read more

Several Brief Exchanges & Proclamations

-
ME: You're right, Nate. *  NATE: I've been right before.  ---  DICK: What do ya know, Howie? †  ME: Not much. You?  DICK: Less.  ---  Pop hoists himself out of my car and into the February night.  He proclaims, "It's cold out here."  I nod.  Pop shuffles over to the house, unlocks the door, and enters.  He proclaims, "It's warm in here."  I nod. ---  BETTY: Howie, what do you put in the trashcan to make it smell so good?  ME: Trash. I put in trash.  BETTY: But it smells so good.  ME: Perhaps you should move next to a landfill, Betty.  ---  Whilst strolling the trail…  POP: The sun is hot today.  ME: We'd be in trouble were it not.  ---  Whenever Pop says he's going up to "wash" his teeth, he means he's going to brush them.  Late 2003, Early 2004  * [Nate was Pop’s youngest brother.]  † [Dick was a semi-retired CPA in Pop’s old accounting firm.] 
Read more

Where Betty Lives

-
A few years back, Betty moved from her condo in Old Mobville to a fancy senior village out on the edge of New Knottydart. One of her brothers had talked her into it. He already lives there. He’s got his own “cottage.” But before Betty made the decision, Pop invited her to live with him. "I can take care of you,” she told him, “but who's going to take care of me?" *   Betty very much enjoys playing “the nurse.” She even worked as one for about a year, many moons ago. When she's here, at Pop’s house, I pretty much stay hidden away in my bedroom. Pop doesn't need two nurses. He isn't an invalid—at least, not anymore. He’s just old, is all.  Travelling back and forth between the senior village and Pop's house, Betty likens herself to a gypsy. She spends nearly every weekend with us. When we pick her up, Pop climbs into the backseat to sit with her. If he didn’t, in addition to playing “the chauffeur,” I’d have to play “the human hearing aid.”  And you might as...
Read more