V and I went to a movie tonight and ran into another couple we know who were seeing the same one. Afterwards we joined them for coffee–and found out it was the husband’s birthday today.
That could never happen with me. Maybe it’s because since cancer I feel so lucky to get every additional year of life—but I require a little more attention. A little more celebration. At minimum— a birthday cake.
It could be a guy thing. V had his birthday recently, and I think we went to a movie that night, too. He was perfectly content. And even though in theory it should be his right to have a low-key birthday, I find that difficult to accept. No matter what he says. Somehow I still feel pressure to celebrate. I’m always glad when it’s over because there is no greater challenge than figuring out a birthday gift for my husband.
There was one time I got it right. Years ago, we had a tradition for his birthday: a mystery golf game. V is obsessed by golf, and we live on the Monterey Peninsula which is a golf mecca. So every year, I would tell V where to show up on his birthday. And he would find a mystery partner waiting to play with him. It was always someone he’d never played with before.
This went on for a few years until the year I came up with the ultimate idea for his mystery partner: Me. He would never suspect because I had zero interest in golf and had sworn never to learn.
So a few months before his birthday, I started taking golf lessons on the sly. I didn’t expect miracles; I just wanted to play 18 holes without holding up the play of everyone else on the entire course.
This was not as easy as I thought. Hitting that little ball was so confounding there were days when I felt like giving up and buying V a sweater. But I stuck with the lessons and by the big day I was ready. I arranged for another couple to make a foursome–and let them in on the surprise.
It was a spectacular surprise. V approached the first tee, looked around for his mystery guest—and I leaped out from behind a bush. The shock of seeing me was enough to throw off his swing. But it was a far greater shock to him–and to me—that I actually played 18 holes.
My learning how to play golf represented more than the moment—it had future potential. We could have something to share, bonding as a couple and being out together in nature. It was a birthday gift that could keep on giving.
It was truly the perfect birthday present—but it did present a few problems.
For one thing, I knew I could never come up with a gift to top that one. And I never have.
The bigger problem was that this took place almost 10 years ago—and I have never played another round of golf again.
My wife stopped celebrating, or even publicly acknowledging, her birthday shortly after we married. Since our birthdays are eleven days apart–hers comes first–we have continued to celebrate mine and implicitly celebrated hers.
Today is the Chinese New Year, the beginning of Year of the Ox. Both of us were born in that Chinese year, as well as under the same Zodiac sign, Aries. For two people who have so much in common, we still have a lot of differences (e. g., she’s the neat one, and I’m the pack rat).
I can understand why hitting a moving ball is so hard. But I found it extremely disheartening to discover I couldn’t hit one that was lying peacefully on the ground. (I also attempted golf for uxorial reasons. I’ve still got the clubs — untouched for 8 years — but not the husband.)
But I’m with you on birthdays. They require celebration.
Does V ever mention–with longing or not–your playing another round or two? Or was the gesture enough for him as well?
Mark, very interesting to think about the Chinese new year. V and I are born in the same calendar year but NOT the same Chinese year—which possibly explains why we have absolutely NOTHING in common.
Which is the perfect segue back to golf—unlike Duchess I gave up the clubs and kept the husband.
And since I hope to continue keeping him, I hope he’s telling the truth–that my one round of golf was enough for both of us.
PS– Duchess– In the future I will keep a dictionary handy for your comments—I had no idea the word “uxorial” meant “wifely.” The English always SOUND so much smarter than Americans–since they speak the language so beautfully. And now I’m thinking you guys really must BE smarter over there. LOL.
I am always tickled by George Bernard Shaw’s observation that “England and America are two countries divided by a common language.” Sometime ago I learned that Noah Webster, our Founding Lexicographer Father, intended it that way for patriotic, as well as practical, purposes. He reasoned that if Americans spoke in a way that was readily distinguishable from their kindred in the UK, His Majesty’s agents would no longer be able to press our citizens into naval service by claiming they were fugitive subjects of the Crown. So, the former colonies and the motherland have trod their own linguistic paths ever since. Of course, all the immigrants from elsewhere around the globe have also contributed their distinctive melodies to the chorus of American English.