My birthday is quickly approaching. I have always loved my birthday. I still do. The increasing number does not bother me. In fact, I'm happy to be older this year- because I will be an even number. I always feel better about things when I'm an even age. One of my (many) quirks. I've been excited about my birthday for weeks. This may partly be because I will be spending my birthday with my family in NY, but I suspect I'd still be somewhat excited even if I were going to be here in Ohio.
This year, my birthday falls on Sunday. I was born on a Sunday. It always feels a little extra special when my birthday falls on Sunday. Every child has no doubt at least once heard about the day of their birth. My grandmother was picking tomatoes when she went into labor with my mother. My father was born on Ash Wednesday. My sister's name was changed as mom & dad were headed to the hospital. I have heard the story of my birth day more times than I can count. Not that it was anything remarkable, but it has become a bit of a family joke.
That first Sunday in June over three decades ago was by all remembrances, a beautiful late spring day in upstate NY. My parents had plans to cook steaks on the grill with my grandparents for dinner. Dinner, which on Sunday, falls in the mid to early afternoon. It is the big meal of the day. Not that they had to travel for the dinner, mom's parents lived just a few houses away. My mom was about a week overdue, and I have always found it amusing that when they called my Grandmother that Sunday morning to tell her they would not be there for dinner, my Grandmother asked 'Why not?'.
Over the mountain and through the woods to Samaritan Hospital they went. Mom & Dad in their car. Grandma and mom's sister, Arlene, in their own car. Grandpa was given instructions to stay by the phone, and Grandma would call him when there was a baby. Grandpa of course, did not obey these instructions. He went out in the garage and tinkered. That's what my Grandma always called it. He found projects to work on. Of course, the day my parents got married, he put his coveralls on over his suit and went out to change the oil in the car while he was waiting for the women. My grandmother knew he did not stay by the phone, because she called him frequently during the afternoon. She had nothing to report, she just called. When he came in the house to make himself a bite to eat, she called and caught him. Grandma fretted at him for not staying by the phone, and Grandpa asked 'Do we have a baby yet?'. Grandma told him no. And he said 'Well, call me when we do'. You would have to know my Grandparents-Grandpa was a very laid back, patient person. Grandma was pretty high strung and really, a bit of a control freak. Their personalities were completely opposite of each other. I always thought they were mismatched, but it worked for them.
Dad said in the late afternoon, early evening, it clouded up. And then it started raining. When I was born, around 7pm, it was raining so hard you could not see across the street. Or so Dad says. I have to take his word for it, since I can't remember that.
Rain on one's birth day is not such a significant event. It is the way rain has played a role in my life following the birth that makes it interesting. It has rained on either my birthday or the day of my party most of my life. Not that I still have parties, but when I was a kid, the party was usually the Saturday closest to my birthday, and if it hadn't rained on my birthday, it rained on the party. I remember my 10th birthday. 10 was a big deal. My parents redid my room for me, I was able to pick out the paint, and the comforter, everything. They bought me a nice desk, which I am still using today. When it was new, I sat at the desk to do my homework. Now it holds the laptop in the living room. It's showing it's age, and really should be replaced. I invited all of my classmates to my birthday party. We planned an outdoor party. It would be in our backyard, and we were going to play baseball. And then the rain came, the party was moved inside, and I remember seeing all of my friends crowded around mom's dining room table.
I don't know if mom had 'backup' plans by then, but she did after that. When we'd plan my birthday, we would say 'and if it rains...' . The years that I was a preteen and in my early teen years, when I only wanted to have a couple of girlfriends over for a sleepover, the weather didn't matter so much. The year I turned 16, my birthday fell on a Saturday. Mom said 'let's rent a hall!'. We held my party at the Berlin Rod & Gun Club. We could be indoors, but there were things to do outdoors too, including volleyball courts. But of course, it rained. It was cold too. So we were all indoors, chatting and trying to stay close together to stay warm (the hall did not have heat).
I cannot remember how many birthdays (or parties) it rained on, but I know in my three and 1/3 decades so far, it has been sunny the whole time less than 10 years. So it is easy to say the majority of my birthdays have been rainy. So have major events in my life. Both my high school and my college graduations. Torrential downpours. At the college graduation, there was such a downpour during Baccalaureate, and then we had to go across the road to the Campus Center- we got drenched walking over there. Laura had on a little silky skirt, and we had to go into the ladies' room and dry it under the automatic hand dryer.
The only major event of my life that it did not rain was my wedding. And yet, that was NOT a big enough sign to me that this was a mistake. In hindsight, I realized that was the only sign I should have needed.
It has become the family joke. My family calls to wish me a Happy Birthday, and someone will say 'did it rain?'. This year, we are planning to go to the Bronx Zoo the day before my birthday. I didn't want to put it out there. Finally, a couple of weeks ago, Mom asked what the plan was if it rained. My sister said she was trying to think positively. I told her we needed to face it, and have something to do in case of rain. So we decided if it is raining, we will go to the Boston Aquarium- which is indoors.
I do feel a little badly for my brother-in-law, Andy. We share a birthday, although he will be quick to tell you I am 2 years older. I always feel like if I am home for our birthday, he suffers from the rain.
I think, had my parents been looking to use an Indian name for me, I would be known as Little Rain Cloud.
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