Birthday Gift Is Presentation of a Lifetime

The living room was dark, with 10 of us sitting on chairs and sofas. Someone cued the VCR.

Expecting the latest home video of the song-and-dance talents of the hosts’ two daughters, I settled in for a good time.

Yikes! It was, instead, a surprise birthday present for me--a “This Is Your Life” cavalcade of photos of yourself from infancy to the present.

Me as a boy. At high school graduation. Me in my 20s. The 30s. The 40s.

Holy cow, I thought, the years have not been good to me. . . .

Ah, the lessons we learn in this life, however belatedly. Thankfully, I learned one that night.

This is my way of easing into the fact I had a birthday milestone recently. It’s the one that begins with a five and ends with a zero.

Yes, it’s true--I’m 500 years old. Or, might as well be. Fifty, five hundred, what’s the difference?

At least, that’s how I’d been awaiting this particular birthday for at least the last year or so. When it came to turning 50, I was a walking cliche.

My only demand to friends and family: Let’s not talk about it. Nothing against the aging process, but did it have to happen to me?

You’d think a guy this age would have a bit better grip, wouldn’t you?

I think I do now, and here’s why:

A Light Finally Goes On

My sister had planned for a month or so to visit on birthday weekend. Nothing suspicious there.

When she got here, we went to visit some friends in Tustin. Again, nothing suspicious. I see them frequently, and they know her from years ago.

But five minutes into our visit last Saturday, three of my favorite people in the world emerged from my local hosts’ hallway.

All three had flown in--from Sacramento, New York and Chicago--to spend what only amounted to a few hours with me.

One brought her 7-year-old daughter, a child I’ve always adored and who makes me laugh more than many adults.

Their act of friendship in coming was overwhelming enough. I couldn’t articulate it, but the beauty of friendship is that I didn’t have to.

We kibitzed for a while--7-year-old friend Caroline regaled us in explaining why her three front teeth were missing (“Well, my brother knocked this one out . . .”)--and then sat down in the living room for what was to be the surprise video.

For that, my sister had spent months lining up friends and relatives from across the country, each of whom contributed a memory or two of our times together.

My oldest friend reenacted some “bits” that we considered hilarious as ninth-graders in Weeping Water, Neb., and later as high school and college boys.

Friends appeared on tape from my first newspaper job. Then some from my second. Then the California crew showed up on tape. My mother and three siblings spoke.

Evening Takes the Cake

You don’t want or need me to relive the evening, and in my altered state of shock, I’m not sure I could, anyway.

That really isn’t even the point.

It’s no big deal to have a 50th birthday. I know that. Someone has one every day.

But I learned something that night.

Vanity is not a particularly attractive trait. Nor is it particularly useful. Nor does it have much to do with what life is all about.

As the night unfolded and in the days following, I grew up a bit.

While I’d been moaning about a birthday and how the years are slipping away and how my looks are shot and blah, blah, blah . . . the most important people in my life were planning one of the most memorable moments of my life.

It made the pre-birthday wailing seem rather silly.

Somewhere in that darkened room that night, a light clicked on.

One moment I’m watching the aging process on videotape and thinking, wow, the years have not been kind.

Then, seeing friends and family on videotape--not to mention the ones next to me in that living room--I came to see just the opposite:

The years have been quite kind, indeed.

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Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Readers may reach Parsons by calling (714) 966-7821, by writing to him at The Times Orange County Edition, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, CA 92626, or by e-mail at [email protected].