Birthdays

My birthday is coming up and people have started to ask me what I kind of a present I want.

At this point there is no particular thing I can think of that I truly want. I have more than I need, too much that owns me these days, and I’d like the Salvation Army to come clean a lot of it out. My wife would object to that, of course, and she’s right.

The kinds of things I want these days are intangible. I want close friends to share long conversation with. And please don’t wait until I’m in Tuesdays-With-Morrie shape for that to start.

Snow for Christmas would be nice, but probably a selfish request that would mess up people’s holiday travel plans. A couple of years ago we went to Prague in December and waited on the tarmac at O’Hare for seven hours before the expired wing de-icing could be reinstituted. We had bought each other business class for Christmas, which was a good thing because I would have been arrested if I had gone crazy in steerage waiting to take off. I don’t know how those people handled it, but they did. Perhaps I should ask for patience instead of snow.

I want an agent for my unsold books. I know for sure that they both need at least one more good revision before anyone will look at them. That’s not something anyone can give me, and it will take a lot of time with my ass in the chair focusing on the books before that will happen. If it ever does.

I’ve made more money this year with my watercolors, which is not to say much, than with my writing. It’s nice to have people ask to buy a painting occasionally. Having people ask more frequently would certainly stroke my ego, not that it needs stroking, just ask my friends.

I’d like a non-judgmental partner to go to the health club with me four times a week. That, of course takes the opposite of revising my books. I have to get my ass out of the chair to do that. I might even lose the hundred pounds I need to see go. [N.B. I can talk about being fat, but you are not permitted to talk about my being even a touch portly.]

A surprise party with a good band and a nice dance floor would be terrific. As far as that goes, I’d like to go dancing at least once a week. For that I’ll need a comfortable pair of shoes with leather soles, but fit is problematic and I can’t ask anyone to take me to Nordstroms, particularly during the Gigantic Holiday Buying Season that passes for Christmas. I’ll get up there with my credit card within the next couple of weeks, fight off the hordes of shoppers, and find something that fits.

I’d like ten acres full of rabbits within close driving distance so I could take the dogs and let them loose to hunt. Last night shortly before midnight when I let them out for one final potty before bed, they cornered a rabbit in the back yard and chased it for about five minutes. It finally escaped under the fence. I don’t think they had any intention of catching it, and neither they nor I would have known what to do with it if they had. Ugh. I know this might offend some of my animal-loving friends, but Stella and Brando are animals too. Hmmmm. As one of my favorite columnists says, “When political correctness collides with political correctness.” I wouldn’t mind 500 feet of Lake Michigan shoreline within close driving distance, either, for the dogs to run on. The point is moot (perhaps even mute), of course, because there’s no way I can find and afford ten close acres; and no Lake Michigan property of that size is available for even a one hundredth of what I could afford.

I’d like to establish a substantial scholarship fund at Goddard College, a place that truly changed my life. Maybe that will be part of my will, or perhaps my friends will create a scholarship after I die. I certainly won’t be able to enjoy flowers then. That would be a good place to scatter my ashes (eventually! Let’s not jump the gun), but I won’t know the difference, and it won’t mean the same things to the people who do the scattering.

None of these is a helpful gift suggestion for anyone. And Christmas is coming, which is even worse. But at some point in most people’s lives, there’s very little they need. I think I’ve reached that point in mine.

Happy birthday to Beth T, with whom I share the date!

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