78

I’ll be 78 tomorrow. My name was going to be Danny Lee until it came time to sign the birth certificate. Danny, not Daniel. I’m happy that my mom changed her mind. When I use Robert, I see it as being more formal. I used it when I attended important meetings while I was working and I use it when I write. Danny doesn’t ring that way for me.

When I asked why she changed her mind, she said, “I liked the idea of having options. We could call you several names. We ended up calling you Robbie because you looked like a Robbie.” I don’t know if that’s true, or not, but that’s what she said.

My birthday fell near Memorial Day, so we celebrated it along with the holiday throughout the years. I don’t recall any of those celebrations except the year I turned thirteen. A family friend asked if I felt older now that I was a teenager. I paused a bit, gave it some thought, and said “No”. I didn’t that year nor most of the years that followed.

I was working for National Foods when I turned eighteen. My boss, Perry, invited me to his house to go out to dinner with him and his wife to celebrate my birthday. My girlfriend and I were happy to get the invitation. The store where I worked had several guys who were graduating from high school two weeks later. Perry invited Dick, Jim, Kirk, Bruce, and their dates to come to a surprise birthday party for me. In the end, it turned out to be a surprise graduation party for the five of us. He even invited our parents. It was a grand time and an extremely generous gesture that I haven’t forgotten.

The only other birthday I remember was the year I turned twenty-one. I went to the Indianapolis 500 with my cousins, Gene and Dick, my Uncle Harry and my dad. It was a great time that’s locked firmly in my brain. It was the first time I went to a bar with my dad. I sat next to him while we watched an extremely talented lady dance on a table. She had exceptional dexterity and great balance.

Over the years I received the best gifts from my three children. I’m sure their mom offered some guidance, but the things I saved were the cards and “I love you” notes they made for me. My three grandchildren have provided similar cards and notes. Knowing that people care is the best gift any of us can receive. It’s the people in our lives, not the stuff, that end up giving us the greatest joy.

I don’t recall which birthday I started feeling older, but I do. It was sometime after my thirteenth. A ton has changed over the past sixty-five years. Most of it has been great. All has been memorable.

I had a friend ask me what I wanted for my birthday this year. I know exactly what to wish for. If I get a cake with candles, as I blow them out, I’ll declare my wish out loud. I want to have more birthdays. Many more. And I want them all to be healthy ones.