I turned 73 last year, October 1, 2013. Ever since I was married, the second weekend of October was my traditional birthday party with my sisters. Since no men are allowed at our parties (unless they stay in another room), my husband always chose that weekend to visit his college buddy in New Jersey. I already had my special birthday celebration with my husband the first weekend of October.
This year’s birthday was bittersweet—-I only have two sisters left— Jannetta 87 and Anita 89. Jannetta lives in Florida with her son, while Anita lives in her own apartment at Phoebe Village, in Wernersville. With Jannetta in Florida, and Anita not wanting to go away over night, which I understood, it would be the first time since the early 70s, I’d not have my sisters to celebrate with.
A few years ago, since I was losing my sisters in death, I decided to invite my daughters to my birthday dinner gathering, which I usually held at the club, where my husband and I are members.
This gathering, I decided, would include my grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, plus a niece. My niece’s daughter lives nearby so she asked to bring her. My granddaughter, Karissa, who attends Temple University, met another niece, who I knew well, too. She surprised me by bringing her along. So, it turned out a great gathering, bitter sweet or not.
At this time in my life, I got my children to realize I don’t need “stuff” for birthday presents. I prefer a phone call or their presence. Some listen. Some don’t. Of course, my niece’s daughter, Jill, had never heard me say that I don’t need “stuff.” Guess what she gave me? I had never had one of these in all my life. I would never even have thought of placing it on my previous Christmas lists. As a matter of fact, it was outrageous. It was a frilly white tutu.
Since I’m the kind of fool that loved to follow my heart, no matter how silly it seems, I plunked that tutu over my head and onto my hips. I couldn’t begin to tell you how many people —after I told them I got this tutu for my birthday—wished me a Happy Birthday!
After our meal, we said our goodbyes with hugs. My chauffer, granddaughter, Rebecca, with her mom and a great-grandaughter took us home. To my surprise, knowing I’d have empty beds at my house, my daughter, Tina, slept with me. The two young ones slept in the guest room, after they showed me how a tutu girl wears makeup. I looked so good, I wanted to stay that way, but decided my bed pillow probably wouldn’t like the stains.
My tutu didn’t sit still through the month of October. I wore it for breakfast with my girlfriends. I wore it for my Red Hat Halloween gathering as well. I almost wore it again for a family reunion breakfast gathering, but my husband chided me, “Carole, your birthday is over. This is not your day.”
He was right, but I had a hard time letting the tutu at home in my closet. One never knows, maybe I’ll get it out again for my 74th or 80th. I do know the fool that I am tells me to follow my heart no matter how crazy it seems!
Carole Christman Koch grew up in Berks County and has been published in numerous publications. She has a passion for writing and has many stories from growing up on a farm to raising children to humorous stories about her and her husband to everyday stories to season stories and more.