I recently had a birthday and one of the funnier carry overs from childhood is the way my sister and I sing the song.  Happy Birthday to you…and the other chimes in “to me” “to me”.  Fast forward a hundred years and we pick up the phone with an automatic “to me!!!!”

I had a wonderful birthday with well wishes, dinners out, Facebook posts and all the people I know checking in with me.  I have to say, the call that touches me the most each year comes from my oldest friend, Marcy.

I don’t always get to take the call, sometimes its a message on the machine but it lifts my spirits more than almost anything.  She and I have known each other for 49 years (sorry Marcy but I had to tell them), we come from the same street, the same economic background, the same kind of Italian mother (you know the one who had the unspoken permission to belt you one if you needed it and always talks too fast for you to get a word in edgewise) and we have the same sense of humor.

I say we have the same sense of humor but she usually does the talking and I usually do all the laughing.  I’m talking about the kind of laughing that brings tears to your eyes and prevents you from breathing all the while hoping you don’t pee your pants kind of laughing.

The funny thing is we don’t really see each other any more.  We have very different lives now (she of the Grandmother persuasion, I of the starting over divorced persuasion) but somehow we always remember, I mean we always remember to phone one another on our birthdays.  The calls usually go something like, “Hi it’s me, happy birthday.  When the hell did you get so old?  and on from there the conversation will go.  She has a very distinctive voice (as do I) so there’s never really any question who “me” is and frankly at this stage in my life no one would really dare to speak to me the way she does.  She is allowed, she’s my BFF from the neighborhood.

I wish we saw each other more.  I’m sure we both feel it’s our fault that we don’t see each other more but life tends to intervene when you least expect it and we have both had our share of interventions.  That said, my birthday wouldn’t make me nearly as happy if I didn’t get her phone call, if I didn’t get the chance to catch up, albiet for a minute or two, and laugh out loud feeling I was back on Hillside Avenue. 

Thank you Marcy, you remain my connection to our past and the thing I look forward to most twice each year.