Forty Words for Forty Years

Ah, the 40th birthday. The big ship sailing in. Or, away . . . depending on your take concerning the milestone matter. Me - I rode a sleekly rigged and tightly outfitted schooner right up to the dock. Let someone else sink out at sea with their Titanic. From the onset of this year, I've viewed my 40th birthday as nothing less than a stopping point for reflection, realignment, rejoicing and NO, count 'em, NO regrets. (Those nasty little boogers accompanied me all along the way before I hoisted them over the side and into the waiting mouths of ravenous sharks!) I even managed to kick off the year of change with a frigid dip into the icy waters of the local swimming pool -- ye olde annual Polar Bear Plunge. (Disclaimer: the waters were not as chilly as expected due to unseasonably warm temps, but I promise you it halted the proper function of my lungs and exacted two-tiered goose pimples!)

Among the embarrassment of riches I received by making a huge fuss over my fourth decade of life, were several generous gifts from my husband, including the food-laden bell-ringing party. The iPhone arrived pre-birthday and is well exercised. The laptop in all her pink glory revealed her identity late in the festivities; she assists in aiding my 'speech' on this blog at present. The riding boots made their well-heeled debut during the second half of the shindig. Our gift bag laden coffee table doubled as a generous portion of the evening's entertainment.

About one-third of the way through the unwrapping, I begin to feel rather uncomfortable with the seemingly unending pile of goodies, bearing contents both large and small, amusing and serious, sweet and tart! My daughter conspired Secret-ly with Victoria to bestow a lovely pajama set; my neighbor and her husband set themselves in good stead with the most clever present(s) of the night. Two sisters sent two gifts which arrived two days in a row to my surprise and delight! (Clarify: sisters one to the other and NOT my own siblings.) There were cards and well-wishes and candies and books with a few gift cards thrown in. Not a bad haul but not at all the reason for the party.

I wanted the people. All of my people, or as many of them as we could gather, together for a few hours under the same roof for my viewing and hearing pleasure. I hoped to observe them as they interacted one with the other. I looked forward to the epicurean pleasure they would undoubtedly experience when they partook of the tables upon tables of victuals, from smoked wings to cake and ice cream to chips and fruit to veggies and dips to nuts and candies to wines and deli meats to gourmet cheeses. Phew! You're full by this point, no? As they dined without limitations, I would feast with my eyes upon my human smorgasbord of folks, grateful for their friendship, companionship, blood history, the entire gamut. People, people, people. MY people, if I may be so bold.

Because it is the people for whom my birthday bell tolls, their sentiment and sacrifice, their wit and verve, it should come as no surprise that I zeroed in on one particular birthday card. Cards from the right people exude such personality and personal feeling -- the succinct and often clever epitome of the giver's impressions of the recipient. I absolutely love them and believe Hallmark answered a holy calling! While there was not one bad apple in the bunch, the card of honorable mention contained perhaps the most perfect of presents for a gal such as myself: words. (A charming pair of earrings also accompanied this card which I mistook initially for a fashionably wrapped teabag!) Words straight up. No mixer. No chaser. No supplemental adverbs or adjectives. Just a collection of forty words for forty years.

They read as follows:

Strong, articulate, smart, kind, motherly, awesome, hot, stylish, funny, entertaining, kind-hearted, beautiful, fit, culinary, artist, horticulturist, faithful, loving, spiritual, photographer, patient, forgiving, author, intelligent, philosophical, passionate, well-rounded, natural, dedicated, courageous, profound, sensible, striking, dancer, honest, virtuous, frugal, brilliant, astute . . . and (yes, she has said it before now) weird.

Now, I am head-over-heels for my iPhone - who I named 'Girlfriend'; please note I called it a her - and the laptop, boots, gift cards, and all the rest are nothing to frown at. I haven't and I won't. It's just that those forty words say in a most direct fashion what one single gift cannot encompass with such wide scope. There may lie within the perfection of this gift the makings of a tradition to be passed from person to person, friend to friend, occasion to occasion.

I propose each reader try this approach to writing with someone on the other end of their pen. It would do away with the fear most people feel when attempting to come across as witty and unique in the signing of their cards. I have several wonderfully supportive and expressive friends who refuse to send me cards or letters of any kind on the excuse that they can't come up with anything as good as my sentiment for them. Such a wounding . . . we writers enjoy being written to - dangling prepositions and all! If we wanted to read our own words, we'd simply write to ourselves. This clean march of words, one quality, one description, one right after the other with merely a comma for accompaniment, eliminates the guesswork and pressure to perform. And, aside from assigning it as the subject for this blog entry, I can not begin to express the sheer pleasure I derived from the reading and absorption of those fabulous forty words.

So, hunker down and give 'em forty!