A few years ago, I took my birthday off Facebook. I wasn’t trying to be demure about my age. I wanted to do a little social experiment and go back to a pre-Facebook world where the birthdays of special people were stored in a little corner of your mind.
Even though you might miss it by a day or two, it was seeing the date on a calendar or while scheduling a meeting or writing it on a form or even a check (remember those?) that made you think about that person. Your brain was forced to make the connection. And a little lightbulb came on and a warm feeling followed by a fond memory or two of the person born on or near that day.
There is something cosmic about a birthday appearing to you that way.
My favorite birthday card last year (as seen above) was from my sister-in-law.
I’d know it was your birthday even without Facebook.
And I knew that it was true.
Sure, it’s sort of a cruel test. We’ve come to rely on Facebook to cue us up and give us the inside angle on birthdays. And yes, my birthday wishes took a huge hit in quantity that year and every year since.
But I’ve made a personal decision to not celebrate mine or anyone else’s birthday on Facebook. I see it as sort of an all or nothing thing that I’ve chosen to take a pass on.
That is not to say that I’m doing a bang up job remembering other people’s birthdays and getting cards in the mail in a timely fashion. If I’m able to remember it on my own, I’m usually sending a text to acknowledge it. I’m almost always late. And often forget.
I remember being about eleven and practically daring my mom to forget my birthday stomping around before school and being an all around nuisance. I think she did eventually wish me Happy Birthday and that was the last time I employed that tactic.
On my 16th birthday, my friends dragged me out of bed at dawn and out to breakfast.
On my 18th birthday, I was grounded. But my friends were determined. Don’t ask.
On my 21st birthday, I danced on a table in a Mexican restaurant in Rome. Really, don’t ask.
On my 30th birthday, I was two and half weeks away from giving birth to my youngest son.
I’ve had my share of really good birthdays.
And now, I am in that stretch of 30’s that is winding its way toward 40.
I don’t expect presents. I don’t want parties.
Cards that do arrive are a treat. Texts from friends, old and new, still make my day.
We all want to be remembered and know we are special to someone. We just find that feeling in different ways.
Some people like parties. Some people like presents. Some people like Facebook.
But these days I like the small surprise of who will remember as they go about their regular business.
Although with this post I’ve sort of blown my cover, I like to keep my birthday a little sacred and see what the universe brings me.
I hold it a little closer.
It is mine after all.
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