JULY 8, 2021 – Today is my spouse’s birthday. It’s not a “big one,” meaning it doesn’t end in a “zero,” but once you reach a certain stage in life, every birthday is “big,” as in, “I’ve made it ’round the sun again!” Paradoxically, every birthday is also “small,” as in, “Let’s celebrate this one nice and quietly—I don’t need the reminder that I’m another year older . . . already.”
For my wife’s most recent “big/small” birthday ending in “zero,” we went on a Mediterranean cruise with friends. She’d announced on the previous New Year’s Eve that she didn’t want to be “stuck in Minnesota for the celebration of her ‘big’ birthday in the coming year.” An Alberta Clipper had swept down from Canada, pushing the outside temperature to 2F below, and whipping the top few inches of snow off the sky-high snowbanks that lined our driveway. Her pronouncement ignored the reality that by the time her birthday rolled around, snow, ice, and cold would be long-forgotten—especially in oven-hot places like Corfu and Corinth, not to mention Athens and Ephesus.
Being the smart fellow that I am, I went along with her plan not to be “stuck in Minnesota” on her birthday. When we wilted under the noonday sun of the Peloponnesus, however, I wasn’t a smart enough fellow to stay silent when Beth said, “What was I thinking when I wanted to be in Greece for my birthday—in July?!” Thank goodness for an ouzo bar in the shade of olive trees.
For my wife’s second most recent “big/small” birthday ending in “zero,” I threw a surprise party at the University Club atop Ramsey Hill overlooking the Mississippi River flats of St. Paul. Turning 50 seemed like a big deal—or so it seemed. In retrospect, how naive we were!
A decade before that, I’d gathered a group of family, friends, and neighbors for a celebration on our newly acquired lot adjacent to Björnholm. The old red cabin that had been on the site for many decades was still standing. On the front steps I read a poem I’d scribbled the night before, then helped serve a Dairy Queen cake. If my wife is looking young today, she was looking even younger back then—as was everyone else in attendance.
I should think that the people most closely associated with my wife’s birthday—her parents—would smile upon her glowingly if they were still alive. She’s one of those angels you meet on earth—not the kind with wings and a halo, but the kind that is as real as the need for such beings here on the ground. To this world she brings great cheer, order, kindness, beauty, generosity, integrity, and intelligence—day in, day out.
To her I raise a glass—let’s say, a Margarita, one of her favorite high summer drinks—and say, “Happy Birthday, Beth, and countless happy, healthy returns of the day!”
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© 2021 by Eric Nilsson
