Happy Birthday Andrew...

21 Candles on that cake.
It's amazing that I was able to make it home for the holiday in 2005.
Eric always likes to celebrate a birthday.

So, it's been another year, and now I'm 23. Almost exactly 201,480 hours ago to this moment I entered the world as a screaming baby, the third member of the family my Mom and Dad started. I was born on November 21, 1984, at 11:50, just minutes shy of being born on Thanksgiving Day. Needless to say, my parents did not make it to Thanksgiving dinner that year. So it seems almost fitting that this year, the first year of my alleged adulthood, I don't get to make it to Thanksgiving dinner.

Of course, I don't remember my first birthday, but the story goes that my Mom's friend Nan, brought my Dad a turkey sandwich in the hospital. I guess my Mom didn't have enough of an appetite for one. I suppose that day was a joyful one for my parents. Today and tomorrow are not joyful days for me this year. Today was my birthday. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, my favorite holiday, and the only day of the year that I've always been able to count on spending time with my favorite relatives.

Let me tell you, Thanksgiving with the Bernsteins is always a good time. For us, Thanksgiving is not just about one decadent meal, it's about at least three or four decadent meals starting on the night before Turkey Day with some kind of a meal out, to stretch out our stomachs and prepare for the next day. Then it's Thanksgiving, which in and of itself constitutes two meals, and then it's the morning-after bagel brunch, which ensures that just when you're almost able to see your toes again, it's time to eat more. And of course, almost every meal is served with copious wine. Oh, what a great holiday.

For most of my youth, I remember spending the holiday with my Uncle Barry and his family, my cousins. For a few years in a row we went to his country house in Gettysburg, PA. Then we'd go to his place in Washington D.C., then there were off-years, when Uncle Barry's house never materialized, so we'd have the holiday with grandparents, or my Dad's brother and his family, or close family friends. Last year we had Thanksgiving at our house, and Barry was there with his youngest daughter Emily, and his girlfriend Kitty, and his middle daughter Allie, and her boyfriend Hugh, who had flown from Fairbanks, Alaska, where they live, to be with us. Harriet, my Mom's cousin was there too, and Robert and Vicki, old friends of my parents. It was a holiday for the ages, and one that my brother and I still talk about with a reverential air. "That was a good Thanksgiving," we say.

Whatever the case was, it was always a festive day that I would look forward to all year. For me, Thanksgiving was always the holiday where Eric and I would complain to Mom and Dad about some of the people we'd have to see, or the time we'd have to spend traveling, but secretly be bursting at the seams with our excitement to spend time with so many of our fun relatives, all at once. I really do have a wonderful family, both immediate and extended, and I miss everyone very much.

Tomorrow, I'll be at work until 10 at night, laying out a newspaper that all of about two people are going to read. Oh joy.

To make matters worse, tonight I'm celebrating my birthday alone in front of the television with some beers and a chocolate mouse cake, after a full day at work. Now, I really shouldn't be so downtrodden about my birthday. Becky did a wonderful job of helping me to celebrate today. She bought me the cake that I'm currently drowning my sorrows in. She also got me a very nice blue shirt, and an argyle sweater, which I'll be sporting this winter, and next summer, when I'm cheering for Team Slipstream-Chipotle in the Tour de France. She also took me out for a delicious lunch this afternoon, before leaving for her drive back to her Thanksgiving in Rhode Island. Thanks Becky, I love you!

So where does that leave me? Eating tuna fish tomorrow night, I suppose. I even tried to volunteer at some sort of a community supper tomorrow, but even that sly attempt to sneak myself a Turkey dinner was thwarted when none of the institutions I contacted (a nursing home, a homeless shelter, a synagogue, a church) needed any help. Oh well, at least I tried.

Instead, I'll spend the early afternoon writing a story about what fire fighters do when they have to work on the holiday. Maybe they'll offer me some of their Turkey...

Okay, that's all for tonight's combined memories of a long-gone birthday, and Thanksgivings of the past. I was planning on posting some more Thanksgiving and birthday photos, to illustrate how much fun Thanksgiving is, but I appear not to have any on my computer, sorry.

Stick a fork in me, I'm done.