They Say It's Your Birthday

"We have to be able to grow up. Our wrinkles are our medals of the passage of life. They are what we have been through and who we want to be." -Laura Hutton

Last week was my birthday. I turned 39 years old. Ugh! They say 40 is the next 30, but judging how I feel lately, I'm wondering if it's the next 50. I feel this need to cherish the next year, before 40 comes and brings with it mammograms, another dreaded slow of the metabolism, and a few more brain cells annihilated. The terrifying thing is that I know that I'll look back someday and say, "Oh, to be 39 again. Those were the days!" Really? I'm going to look back and think THIS body was skinny? I'm going to think THAT face looks young? I'm going to have MORE aches and pains and LESS energy? Heaven help me.

Sorry for the gloomy outlook. Who knows, maybe I'll be skinnier, smarter, and more energetic at 40 something. And maybe I'll win the lottery and move to Paris. It's possible. 

Aside from despairing over my imminent aging, my birthday really was good. The actual day fell on a Thursday. Grown up birthdays are so fun when they fall on a weekday. You know, I did exciting things like picking kids up from school, taking notes at violin lessons, and working on homework all night. It's a glamorous life, but some of us have to live the dream. There were a few reminders that the day was somehow "specialer" than the rest. Jessica left me a sweet card with a Barnes and Noble gift card attached. The child knows me. There's something about when your child grows up, gets a job, and starts "giving back" in little ways. Like when she writes a note and thanks you for all that you've done for her over the years, because now that she has to do much of it for herself, she realizes what a sacrifice it was. And like when she gives you money to spend at your favorite bookstore coupled with a promise of lunch on her. Birthdays start to get fun again when your kids start growing up.

I went to Barnes and Noble immediately. No need allowing a perfectly good gift card to burn a hole in my pocket, and you know, I have a shortage of books. It's funny how when you have no money, you find yourself with a dozen books in hand and no ability to whittle them down. And when you have money to spend, you can't seem to find a single book that just jumps out at you. I settled on two books that have been on my list for sometime. "The Great Bridge" by David McCullough, a history of the building of the Brooklyn Bridge by one of my favorite authors. And "Destiny of the Republic" by Candice Millard, a history of "madness, medicine and the murder of a president", as the front cover indicates. It's all about the assassination of Garfield. I know. I know. These sound like real page-turners. You spend your gift card the way you want, and let me spend mine the way I want.

After the bookstore, I went over to Tracie's, where I met mom and my sisters for lunch. We enjoyed Cafe Rio salads and Madbrooks donuts while we chatted the afternoon away. It was so nice of everyone to take time off of work and their busy lives to celebrate with me.

Neil saved our celebration for the weekend. He has come to learn over the years that if he really wants to pamper his wife, it is best to feed her some good food, and lots of it, then take her to the symphony.

After finding out that my favorite Italian restaurant, Biaggi's, just up and left the Gateway, I decided that Z Teja's would have to suffice. The cornbread and trio of guacamole, salsa, and queso served with warm chips, were adequate substitutions for focaccia bread dipped in olive oil and vinegar. Once I had gorged myself beyond all that is decent, we were off to the symphony.

It is so very kind of the Utah Symphony to include my favorite pieces for the concert that falls nearest my birthday each year. Last year, it was Bolero. Perhaps the first piece of classical music I fell in love with as a child. It's as if Terry Fischer called me up a month ago and asked me in his charming Swiss accent, "Mrs. Watson, and what would you have us play this year for your birthday?" And I replied, "Why thank you for asking Mr. Fischer! You know, I've been craving some Vivaldi's Four Seasons lately, and I've never heard it live." And he replies, "Done! I'll see you on the 9th!" 

And so we showed up and listened to Nicola Benedetti, one of the violin world's new young superstars, play an amazing rendition of the Seasons accompanied by a remarkable group of symphony members. This version was faster and grittier than I've heard before. I liked it. I really liked it.

Neil was offered 11th row Jazz tickets last weekend. I told him to find some guy to go with him. Sitting in a noisy stadium, the smell of beer wafting through the chaos, listening to semi-drunk patrons shout obscenities to some guy trying to get a ball into a basket, just isn't my idea of an enjoyable and relaxing weekend.

But put me in a room with fine-dressed individuals, where all is perfectly silent, where you wait to cough until in between movements, where the music glides through the acoustical masterpiece of that concert hall and touches every ear and heart, and where everyone stands and applauds with respect and yells BRAVO, and refuses to stop until the violinist graces us with another brilliant piece...that's where you find me purring on a Saturday night.

And Neil is so kind to humor me. When the Four Seasons ended, he said, "I must not know Vivaldi, because I didn't recognize most of that music." 

I was shocked. How did he not recognize the Four Seasons? This piece of music was probably the second piece of classical music that I fell in love with as a teenager. It was the first piece of classical music that I purchased for myself after I got my teenage job. My Vivaldi's Four Seasons tape traveled with me to college and into marriage. I guess I haven't listened to it enough in recent years. I'll need to remedy that.

We even spotted Jessica's Utah Youth conductor who plays violin in the symphony. We love this woman! She's one of those enthusiastic mentors who's understanding of music and how it touches people really influences your child. She got Miss Benedetti to come and talk with and play for the students this morning. That was a treat for Jessica.

I could have sat there listening to the Symphony all night. But alas, the final note was played, the final Bravo exclaimed, and it was time for my birthday to end. We had talks to give the next day in church. Normal life was to resume. No more being special. 

Thank you Neil, for hitting another birthday home-run! The only thing that makes getting old bearable, is the thought of doing it with this amazing man who I fall deeper in love with everyday. I just adore him. He's the best decision I ever made!

I reminded Neil on our way home, like I did last year as I came off my Bolero high...If we ever become filthy rich, I will spend our money on season tickets to all of Utah's Performing Arts. We have a rich arts scene in this state, and I'd love to do more to keep it funded and thriving. Consider that my plug to get out and go to the symphony or the ballet! Come on people, those sweaty guys throwing balls at baskets get enough of our money, and they'll be washed up in less than a decade. Art can touch us for a lifetime! So let it!