Posts Tagged ‘Birthday Party’

Birthday Party, a haibun

March 19, 2017
My beautiful picture

My beautiful picture

(“Peace in the East”….from my phone camera.)

Sometimes life gets so heavy you topple over, face in the soil.  So I’m posting this short ‘haibun’ to lighten up the load.  It’s a beautiful almost-Spring night, and everyone is tucked in their beds, and it’s almost silent outside.  No crickets yet, and too dark to see the sickle-swallows but the woodstove is empty and there is peace in the house.  Willow, the new kitty who was crippled at Christmas, had surgery yesterday (neutered) and he’s almost smiling. Haven’t heard a yowl yet, but he hasn’t looked in the mirror at his rear end.

There are kind parents in this world, even with major flaws.  My father was one of them.  He died too early, in November 1989.  I miss him terribly but he was a prime example of unconditional love, that issue that is denied by so many “Christians”.  He learned that from his big Hungarian family and a loving mother, my grandmother who died when I was just 12.



“Birthday Party”

Mean, spoiled Nancy Madsen was having her 10th birthday party. Nancy was always turned out in pretty dresses, with petticoats and a clean face. She had blond curly hair, like Shirley Temple, except without the talent. She was the youngest of three, so her mother took special care with her. My mother? Not so much. I was left to my own devices, and those weren’t always the best. There was no fairy godmother hovering over me.

I was sitting on a stool, stupidly too near the drop off onto the road beneath. I was taking a back seat, trying to disappear. Nancy’s mother didn’t like me much. Her dog, Freckles, a Dalmatian, had bit me in the eye the year before. She blamed me for ‘disturbing his nap.’ Back then there were no lawsuits or doctor visits for this ‘small stuff’. You had iodine slapped on the wound and went back to play. I remember being uneasy about her party, as my mother picked the gift herself. I didn’t know what she had wrapped up in gift paper. I was hoping it wasn’t my Betsy-Wetsy doll.

Nancy floated around the tables, playing birthday diva. She decided to sit on me. A big mistake for a lot of reasons, two of which I remember: One, I was deathly afraid Nancy would tip us over the cliff, and two….she was fat. I thought I wouldn’t survive this. I couldn’t breathe.

So I bit her. In the back. Nancy leaped up screaming and a general riot broke out. I couldn’t get out why I had bit her, but by the faces of the adults I knew I was no longer welcome.

My father ordered me to the car. I went, weeping, sitting in the back of the old Studebaker station wagon. I was very worried, mostly about the anger from my mother as soon as she heard what her only daughter had done. Not that she liked any of the adults at the party, and it was generally mutual, but it clearly was another failing of a daughter she really didn’t care for.

My father approached the car, his face beaming. “We won’t tell your mother about this. Let’s go get some Breyer’s ice cream.”

This wasn’t the first time my father stuck up for me. We were in a secret war against my mother until he died. He was my best friend though I didn’t appreciate it then. I do now.


Childhood is tough

Adults are the enemy

Kids fodder for wars






Alexander the Great and the Bloom of Youth

November 14, 2009

Our son’s birthday was yesterday.  He was 22.  My husband, all on his own, planned a gala event for him, and told me only a few days, maybe 4 , before.  LOL!

I had my doubts that he would pull this off because of his plans: fully one half of the event was a going away party for son because he has enlisted into the Navy and leaves for ‘boot camp’ in the Great Lakes region somewhere on Dec. 8th.

This is very hard for momma.  Our only child, and he’s in college.  This was quite a shock when he informed us what he did (enlist) and I thought things somehow would change and he wouldn’t go, but they didn’t.  We are proud of his maturity in wanting to do this, but of course, apprehensive.  There’s a matter of this damn war.

My husband had plans for a bakery to do a cake in the form of a battleship…or aircraft carrier, and two days before the party, they backed out.  Our local grocery store did a “Harry Potter” cake….and though I wasn’t involved, I wondered at this.  However, it was a good cake! I don’t know what was the filling between layers, but it was good.  For an hour I scoured a party store the other day for something nautical for a center piece, and only found some gummie bear-looking soft plastic sea creatures….something too small for the “3 and up” crowd, but the 50 and over bunch made some obscene tableaus with these creatures on our table.  I am pleased to say that all of our son’s friends didn’t do what the ‘adults’ did with these pieces.  Sheez.

The venue was a new place….open about 4 months in SW Atlanta, called “Space Atlanta”.  It was huge, but the front area we had was small enough so 40 people wouldn’t get lost.  My husband had decorated it with balloons, ribbons tied to the back of chairs, ‘birthday’ table cloths and flowers.  The food catered by Space Atlanta was great and husband ran a tab. Jesus Christ! My friends can drink!

Our neighbors, a lot of my husband’s co-workers came (our son had worked in our husband’s place a few years ago for one month but got fired because his hair was too long. LOL!) my belly dancing students came and other friends.  But the best thing was our son’s friends turned out in force (well, 10 young men is force to me) and they were delightful.

When young men…from 18 to 23 are not corrupted by adult life….have mostly stable homes of some sort, have a supportive community of either college, neighbors or family…well, they are a delight to see.  They were big, hulking, young men for the most part, with shaved heads or dreadlocks….and if I didn’t know most of them, they would be pretty scary if you met them on the street at night.  But they weren’t of that nature or character.  They were sweet with the bloom of youth and good young men.  I was glad that my sometimes snarly son had such a cadre of friends.

A couple of months ago, we celebrated our first Shabbat.  A Friday Jewish dinner….and  a couple were guests at this.  They were black kids, close friends of our son, and this was the first cultural event  they had been to outside their own religion.  We aren’t Jewish, but had been studying Judaism for a couple of months and thought we would try this lovely and spiritual event for our own family.

I think this added something to our family and our guests.  We played scrabble for an hour or so after dinner and they opened up about their own lives.  Perhaps that is part of the communication that sometimes happens in these events.  Regardless, I got a chance to listen to these young men and hear what their lives were about.  And realized that they are still….children.

I hope they don’t grow up faster and become  jaded adults, but they probably will.  I hope we can be there to give them some slack and support.  They deserve it, as does my serious son.  Oh!  and I learned a lot about said son from his companions.  Apparently he has “girl-admirers” all over campus….something we never knew.  My husband and I looked at each other and realized our son has a secret life we know nothing about.  He never talks about these things.


A couple of men from my husband’s work had read my first book, “A Seasoning of Lust” and one of them was quite a classics scholar.  One still held on to the cd of “Lady Nyo’s Poems and Other Verse” that was supposed to be printed in Chicago this summer.  He was the project manager of some big job and a delightful man.  One friend  John Taurus, who has written for this blog before, came  and a table of us had quite a ‘non-birthday’ discussion going.

I have just finished Robert Kaplan’s “Balkan Ghosts” and since there was a Slovenian, and two Romanians there, John, myself and a few others, well….the discussion strayed to ethnic cleansing, WWII, back to Mozambique and what is happening  with the take over of the farms,  back to Romanian brutality during WWII and the Serbo-Croatian war.  And people chimed in about Afghanistan.

A few there had read Mary Renault’s fiction and I have just started her “Nature of Alexander”  about Alexander the Great and all those wars and campaigns, bad family and what passed for ‘state ship’ in those times.

My friends had more extensive knowledge of Renault and her writings, and the criticisms of her books, but it doesn’t matter because she was writing literature that was head and shoulders over much of contemporary works.  Anyone who can sling Plato and Socrates and ancient Greece and Persia into an extended sentence has my admiration and attention.

The personnel of Space Atlanta were fantastic people.  Again, young men, and they couldn’t have been more gracious.  My husband apparently printed up some flyers about my first book, and a promo for the second, and gave them to the staff.  I got a lot of questions when we were leaving about publishing, writing, belly dancing, mysticism and some good ghost stories from one of them. They want to carry the books there, and that is so lovely of them.  But I felt comfortable in this venue for the books because the art work is wonderful, the place is great and I think the clientele will go for this.

Atlanta has been having a really hard and divisive time with the mayoral campaign and first round elections.  Racial issues that shouldn’t ever be part of anything have been prominent in the news, and life in general in our neighborhoods.  Crime has certainly been an issue.  Last night was a wonderful place of communion and friendship, between neighbors and friends, black and white, and it had to be one of the more uplifting times of recent memory.  I think the discussions of literature and history and world events fell into a very natural place amongst us.

Many thanks to the staff of Space Atlanta, 1310 White Street, SW Atlanta.  And many thanks for the thoughtfulness  and energy of my husband.

He did something hard and made it seem effortless and we all had fun.  And our son goes off to a dangerous and adult life in the Navy having the friendship of his friends and the concern of the adults around him.

It doesn’t get better than that.

Lady Nyo

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