Today Is My Real Birthday
During my sophomore year in college, I sat in an African American Literature class. It was a great class. It gave me a healthy appreciation for the Harlem Renaissance and introduced me to a lot of new friends. We had just begun discussing The Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass when a classmate pointed out the tragic fact found in the first few pages, that Douglass wasn't sure when exactly his birthday was. He celebrated it on Valentine's Day, but he never knew his exact date of birth.
All around the room people were saying things like, "I can't imagine not knowing my exact birthday." "That is so sad." Heads were shaking all around the room. I've never been a slave, and I'm no Frederick Douglass, but I do know what it's like to not really know your birthday.
For years I celebrated it on the wrong day.
As it turns out my mom was pregnant with my little sister when she filled out my kindergarten registration form. She wrote down the wrong day -- September 21st instead of September 22. Consequently I memorized the wrong birthday in kindergarten, all my paperwork at school said my birthday was September 21st, and that's when we celebrated it for as long as I could remember.
My illusion was shattered one day in about the tenth or eleventh grade. Mom and I were working on fixing supper in the kitchen. It was early September, and I casually made a remark about my upcoming birthday. Mom got this puzzled look on her face. "That's not your birthday. Your birthday is the next day."
Clearly she didn't know what she was talking about. We argued about it for a while. Mom stood firm. She was convicted. The 21st simply wasn't my birthday and that was that. She marched back to her closet and rifled around looking for our family's important documents. I followed.
She found the right box, blew off the dust, and shuffled through a disorganized stack of papers. Finally she triumphantly presented me with my birth certificate. There it was in black and white. My birthday was the 22nd.
The date on all my school documents was wrong. I no longer shared a birthday with a guy in my class named Andy. I was a day younger, and a basic fact, something that defines you to an extent, was different than I'd always thought. My astrological sign had even changed. I'd always clearly been a Virgo and now, according to some charts, I might be a Libra!
Okay, that last part isn't as dramatic as it sounds; I've never been a big believer in astrology anyway. In the wise words of one of my favorite teachers, "That stuff is just a bunch of hogwash!" The point is that I'd walked around for years assuming I knew this rudimentary thing about myself, and I was wrong.
I also have to admit that it's a pretty funny story. My brother and I laughed about it this morning when he called me to say, "Happy birthday." One of the women I worked with said, "I'm not gonna lie. I can't wait to see somebody after school so I can tell them this story," when I told her about it yesterday afternoon. She was wondering when I referred to the day as my 'fake' birthday.
So here I am on my real birthday. I've gotten gifts, cards, and hugs. I've talked to those dearest and nearest to me. Every year I am amazed at the love I receive. I had fruit with my lunch bunch yesterday and came in the back door with gifts in my hand after school. Then, I had a nice long chat with my mom.
My husband bought me a pair of teacher shoes I've needed and gave me a card that nearly made me cry. My mother-in-law baked me my favorite cake (she doesn't know about the dessert fast). I got a gift from one of my dear friends: a book called Tea with Jane Austen. If you know me, you know that's the perfect book for me. Another of my friends created a photo shopped image of us and posted it on my Facebook timeline. If we're Facebook friends, you should take a gander at it. Hilarious! My dad told me this great story about a hog that made us both laugh until he nearly choked. I got to talk to my brother and sister, a much needed dose of home.
All of that's true about my thirtieth birthday.
Some of my colleagues asked me yesterday if I was bothered about turning thirty. I'm not. At all. When I look back, I think I've had some really interesting experiences. I've been hurt, and I've loved. I've made mistakes and learned a ton. I told them when they asked that I'm glad to be thirty. I feel like I've figured a lot of things out.
I'm finally comfortable in my own skin. I like the life I've lived so far and have surprisingly few regrets. I was reading something my cousin wrote today about finally having the courage to be herself. It made me so glad that she's discovered that strength inside herself because she is the loveliest, gentle young woman. Thankfully, she's learning some of those lessons a little faster than I have.
So you're wondering, "What's the best part of the last thirty years?"
Like India Arie, I have to say it's the little things, like the things I enjoyed today. That's the best part. If you've never heard the song, watch the video. It's one of my favorites.
When I think about the future, I feel like there's much more to experience. I love that I don't know it all. I tell my students that all the time. One of the best things about life is that even if you live to an ancient 100, you still won't be able to learn everything there is to learn or be able to discover all the amazing things about this life.
All around the room people were saying things like, "I can't imagine not knowing my exact birthday." "That is so sad." Heads were shaking all around the room. I've never been a slave, and I'm no Frederick Douglass, but I do know what it's like to not really know your birthday.
For years I celebrated it on the wrong day.
As it turns out my mom was pregnant with my little sister when she filled out my kindergarten registration form. She wrote down the wrong day -- September 21st instead of September 22. Consequently I memorized the wrong birthday in kindergarten, all my paperwork at school said my birthday was September 21st, and that's when we celebrated it for as long as I could remember.
My illusion was shattered one day in about the tenth or eleventh grade. Mom and I were working on fixing supper in the kitchen. It was early September, and I casually made a remark about my upcoming birthday. Mom got this puzzled look on her face. "That's not your birthday. Your birthday is the next day."
Clearly she didn't know what she was talking about. We argued about it for a while. Mom stood firm. She was convicted. The 21st simply wasn't my birthday and that was that. She marched back to her closet and rifled around looking for our family's important documents. I followed.
She found the right box, blew off the dust, and shuffled through a disorganized stack of papers. Finally she triumphantly presented me with my birth certificate. There it was in black and white. My birthday was the 22nd.
The date on all my school documents was wrong. I no longer shared a birthday with a guy in my class named Andy. I was a day younger, and a basic fact, something that defines you to an extent, was different than I'd always thought. My astrological sign had even changed. I'd always clearly been a Virgo and now, according to some charts, I might be a Libra!
Okay, that last part isn't as dramatic as it sounds; I've never been a big believer in astrology anyway. In the wise words of one of my favorite teachers, "That stuff is just a bunch of hogwash!" The point is that I'd walked around for years assuming I knew this rudimentary thing about myself, and I was wrong.
I also have to admit that it's a pretty funny story. My brother and I laughed about it this morning when he called me to say, "Happy birthday." One of the women I worked with said, "I'm not gonna lie. I can't wait to see somebody after school so I can tell them this story," when I told her about it yesterday afternoon. She was wondering when I referred to the day as my 'fake' birthday.
So here I am on my real birthday. I've gotten gifts, cards, and hugs. I've talked to those dearest and nearest to me. Every year I am amazed at the love I receive. I had fruit with my lunch bunch yesterday and came in the back door with gifts in my hand after school. Then, I had a nice long chat with my mom.
My husband bought me a pair of teacher shoes I've needed and gave me a card that nearly made me cry. My mother-in-law baked me my favorite cake (she doesn't know about the dessert fast). I got a gift from one of my dear friends: a book called Tea with Jane Austen. If you know me, you know that's the perfect book for me. Another of my friends created a photo shopped image of us and posted it on my Facebook timeline. If we're Facebook friends, you should take a gander at it. Hilarious! My dad told me this great story about a hog that made us both laugh until he nearly choked. I got to talk to my brother and sister, a much needed dose of home.
All of that's true about my thirtieth birthday.
Some of my colleagues asked me yesterday if I was bothered about turning thirty. I'm not. At all. When I look back, I think I've had some really interesting experiences. I've been hurt, and I've loved. I've made mistakes and learned a ton. I told them when they asked that I'm glad to be thirty. I feel like I've figured a lot of things out.
I'm finally comfortable in my own skin. I like the life I've lived so far and have surprisingly few regrets. I was reading something my cousin wrote today about finally having the courage to be herself. It made me so glad that she's discovered that strength inside herself because she is the loveliest, gentle young woman. Thankfully, she's learning some of those lessons a little faster than I have.
So you're wondering, "What's the best part of the last thirty years?"
Like India Arie, I have to say it's the little things, like the things I enjoyed today. That's the best part. If you've never heard the song, watch the video. It's one of my favorites.
When I think about the future, I feel like there's much more to experience. I love that I don't know it all. I tell my students that all the time. One of the best things about life is that even if you live to an ancient 100, you still won't be able to learn everything there is to learn or be able to discover all the amazing things about this life.
The faithful love of the Lord never ends!
His mercies never cease.
Great is his faithfulness;
his mercies begin afresh each morning.
I say to myself, “The Lord is my inheritance;
therefore, I will hope in him!” (Lamentations 3:22-24)
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