When your birthday comes out on a major holiday, it takes getting used to the collision. My father’s birthday is on Christmas. Not only a major holiday, but a holiday sharing presents. We always had a special present, and a cake. Actually, I don’t think he cared. He wasn’t even sure how old he was. Born in the Ukraine, either 96 or 97 years ago, when he died in 2003.
I was born on January first, ten days late. It must have been cold, so I probably just wanted to say warm. Throughout the years it has had its pluses and minuses. On the plus side as you grow older, it is a lot easier to remember when your birthday is. It also makes it easy to remember that my car tags expire on the first of the year. All my financial records, start on the first of the year. Any subscriptions to organizations, or other licensees are all neatly packaged, so that I can have an orderly life. Actually, there aren’t that many minuses. Sometimes it gets annoying when someone finds out that I was born on January first, and I get, “Oh isn’t that cute, you are a New Year’s baby.” Please, give me a break!
Some of the nice remembrances, are the different celebrations I have experienced celebrating my birthday on New Year’s. Growing up in Brooklyn, New York, during my high school and the beginning of college years, I had a bunch of friends, and we would always have a New Year’s Eve party. At the outset of the party, someone would always remember that New Year’s Day was my birthday, and bring it up to the group, saying that, “We’ll toast your birthday at the stroke of twelve.” It never failed, at the stroke of midnight, they couldn’t remember their own names, let alone toast my birthday.
In the mid-eighties, I had a group of five friends. We would always celebrate all the holidays together. At that time, I had my own company. The rest, were all high-level executives in major corporations. The first year we all went out, and bought formal wear. We rented a limousine for the evening. First, we had dinner at a fancy restaurant, which I can’t remember, then it was visiting all the fancy hotels. The Plaza, St. Regis, the Essex House, The Carlyle, and the Algonquin. We capped off the evening at midnight, with a champagne toast, at a small park overlooking the Hudson River.
The second year, since we had the formal wear, was a long weekend stay at the Mohonk Mountain House. It’s a Victorian castle resort, nestled in the Hudson Valley, only 90 miles north of New York City. Founded in 1869, it’s surrounded by 40,000 acres of pristine forest. The resort is located on the shore of Lake Mohonk, which is half a mile long and 60 feet deep. The biggest feature we all loved was that each Victorian room had its own wood-burning fireplace.
There was one year I went on a New Year’s vacation by myself. It was Club Med, in the Dominican Republic. There was a big party, with fireworks. The Club invited several managers, and their wives, who managed the big American companies in the capital. The dress for the week was of course, a T-Shirt and swim trunks. I think I wore a polo shirt, and shorts to the party, but no shoes. I told some of the visitors that it was my birthday, and they toasted me with champagne.
When I moved to Los Angeles and met Kim, the parties were different. We were both in the entertainment field, so the parties were more glitzily. She was an actor, having just completed the series, “On The Air,” for ABC. Her claim to fame was the character she created, Hatchet Face, when she co-starred with Johnny Depp in the film, “Cry Baby.”
After all that, parties were getting tiresome. Now, I don’t even think of really celebrating. Yes, I’ll still have a few drinks on New Year’s Eve, and probably fall asleep before mid-night.
