Birthday Present
You may have noticed that my wife Marjorie celebrated her birthday this week on the 12th of February. Yes, she shares her birthday with Abraham Lincoln and I have been forever grateful for her foresight in choosing that date; I would probably be in the doghouse most years, had it nor been for the coincidence of the two dates.
And before I forget, thanks to the multitude of you who saw fit to wish her a happy birthday on her big day. She looked at every wish that was offered and I think she did indeed have a happy birthday. I thought it most interesting how so many of you found novel ways to say ‘Happy Birthday” without really saying those rather mundane words.
I had a hard time for my contribution to her birthday. I spoke with her and other women about a suitable birthday gift. It didn’t help. As I recall I offered a diamond or diamonds, a precious stone-encrusted bracelet and other baubles. “No,” she said, “I don’t really need any new jewelry, but I would like something special this year, something I could really use.”
It sounded to me like a kiss of death. She was asking for something special – something I had no idea how to satisfy. I fell into a discussion with a lady friend that I knew to be a birthday present connoisseur. Her response was not at all helpful.
“I don’t really have birthdays,” she informed me. “I have birthday months. We generally visit Florida during my birthday month so I look for special things down there for my celebrations. It’s a treat.”
As far as I had been informed, we weren’t traveling to Florida any time even close to February. The selection of a suitable present seemed to be going nowhere fast. In fact, despite my subtle hints about the matter, I assumed the topic was of little interest to my beloved. Boy, was I wrong as I began to learn after her birthday came and went this week. Today, she seemed willing for some extended shopping to finally select a suitable present, despite the fact that we had already consumed her birthday dinner at a local emporium. On our shopping venture, I soon learned that she had not only selected a present that she wanted; she also knew the exact store where I could procure it, how much it would cost, and exactly where in the store it was located.
I was relieved. At this point in my desperate search for answers, I would have bid on the Brooklyn Bridge if that were the object of her desires. I went to the store, Rite Aid, purchased the gift, and returned home in the same afternoon with the gift in hand. I showed it to her and she verified the exactness of my selection. I asked if she wanted me to wrap the unusual gift. She looked at me quizzically. I took the look to mean that mine was a dumb suggestion. (Another win for me.) She said she wanted to use it today and would I please help set it up for her use. I practically fell over in searching for an electrical cord that was needed to operate the gadget.
Let me cut to the chase. The gift was a heating pad. Not just any heating pad that we already have two of; rather, this special heating pad provides warm, MOIST heat to soothe the treated body parts. Upon inspection, I learned that the moisture comes from a damp washrag that the user places inside the bag housing the heater.
She used the heater today and pronounced it exactly what she wanted.
I think my good luck in procuring the exact gift comes from our lengthy wedded bliss. After all, she is an old white woman and I am a doddering, old curmudgeon who has followed her along our winding pathway of life for more than 50 years. It makes birthday presents seem like a minor thing, although it is good to get the correct one on occasion. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MARJORIE.
