For about a month, Bo and I and a community of friends kept a great big secret. Now that it's over, we can talk about it. Recently, in the process of explaining to people why we were doing what we were doing, I almost apologized by saying, "We don't make a big deal out of birthdays." I don't know why I do this, try to gauge what people think is frivolous and undermine my own life to suit their opinions, but I often do it.
The truth is, we do make a big deal out of birthdays. We may not spend a whole lot of money or buy extravagant gifts, and we may not decorate with balloons and streamers. But, regardless, birthdays are a very big deal to us. Everyone in the family celebrates, almost as if we're each having a birthday. Each person has their own favorite cake or meal they like to have for their special day. Each person has a personality that lends itself to certain types of gifts, and each birthday holds it's own special sentiments.
For example, six is a landmark. It's the year when the birthday child gets his or her own copy of A.A. Milne's Now We Are Six.
Eight is another landmark. It's when they can have their first sleepover party.
Ten is another. That's the year they enter double digits. A special meal is in order.
At twelve, they get a dozen birthdays. Twelve days of doing small things to make the special day last for almost two weeks. Plus, the gifts, while they may be small, come in dozens. A dozen flowers. A dozen postcards from all over the country. A dozen packs of gum. A dozen dollars.
Thirteen is the next one. Magical things begin to happen after a child turns 13. On that day, the child can choose a special friend to accompany them (usually the child's best friend) and they join Mom and Dad, everyone dressed in their finest clothing, and they all enjoy a meal at the finest restaurant of their choice. At this age, a young lady can choose, if she so desires, to pierce her ears.
Then there are a few years to wait. It's not that the fourteenth and fifteenth birthdays aren't meaningful. They certainly are. It's just that they aren't landmarks, so they don't have some unique significance to them.
But then, there's sixteen.
Bard, being the oldest, is always the first to experience the birthday traditions-in-the-making. This year was a new experience for everyone.
As many of you who know us or read this blog regularly know, we have been enjoying folk dancing for about a year and a half now. For you who are shaking your head and wondering why we would ever enjoy such a thing, you've likely never tried it. If you have, it was in fourth grade when the opposite gender had cooties and you danced to a scratched record in your school gymnasium.
Folk dancing now is different. It's aerobic. It's fun. It's a way to meet new people and get away from the television/computer/video games. Imagine music like in Oh Brother,Where Art Thou. Imagine the kind of stuff Nickel Creek cut their teeth on. If that doesn't suit your fancy, imagine elegant English Country music and gliding along a'la the dance scenes in Pride and Prejudice. Still not convinced? How about some Celtic stuff? How about finding a pretty girl swinging into your arms? Or on the converse, how about seeing young men kindly ask young ladies to dance simply because they want to dance and they both need a partner? Still not sure? Well, all I can tell you is that you need to try it. Once you get on the floor, you'll likely be hooked.
So, for this sixteenth birthday that Bard just experienced, we did a combination of the things that we love best. We rented an old grange hall, hired a caller, gathered up a band, sent out invitations for a good old-fashioned folk dance complete with a carry-in dinner and after-dinner music jam.
And then we lied our weasley black guts out.
Bard, Houdin, Monet, Sweetheart and The Baby were left completely in the dark. We didn't even tell my dad about the plans. Behind everyone's backs, we persuaded families into participating in our evil scheme, and before you know it, we had almost 100 accomplices. And we couldn't have done it without them.
This past Saturday afternoon, while Bard spent the night and morning with her good friend Ash on trumped-up charges of going to a college book discussion group, we told the other kids about the plan, packed two vehicles full of provisions and headed to the hall.
while the kids put together a banner, I hung photos of Bard all over the dining area. Photos of her on the day she was born all the way up to the day she blew out the candles on her sixteenth birthday cake. And I panicked, too, because that's just how I am. What if no one came? What if they all backed out? What if the caller got sick? What if Bard and Ash got in an accident on the way to the hall? What if there wasn't enough food?
But, as usual, I worried in vain. There was PLENTY of food. And delicious food, too! Yes, there were people who didn't come, and that was a bummer because I kept a guest list and limited the number of attendants to 85, so I had to turn a few away. Aside from that, every time a person RSVP'd, I added the funds that would generate to my tally; we asked people not to bring gifts, but to contribute $15 per family to the band instead. So we did end up about $75 short because people either responded that they'd come to the dance and only came for dinner without paying the $15.00 or didn't show up at all without letting me know that I could fill their spot. Note to those of you dear readers who do this type of thing to your hostess: DON'T!
But in spite of that, it was absolutely wonderful. Bard was completely surprised, the caller was fantastic, the band was just perfect, and some family friends who have four very talented boys performed a few songs during the band break, including a special birthday song just for Bard. It was completely and totally delightful. The same family stayed after dinner and led others in a music jam on the stage while the younger kids ran around, the older kids laughed, danced and played games, and the parents visited and cleaned up the hall (though there was very little to clean!).
Everyone who participated expressed their thanks and gushed about how much fun they had. And if you look at the pictures, you can see that they certainly weren't lying about that.
I only wish I could do this every month--could afford it, get the participation necessary, have the funds to make it work and, of course, the energy to do it.
But I'll just have to settle for the fact that I have four more (at least) sixteen year-olds on the way.
Details of the event will be given from the daughter's perspective. Soon. Right daughter?
