November 30

Thinking this week about my own recent birthday reminded me of something. I had a friend (she's still alive, I think, but we're no longer friends) who is from November to July younger than I am. Every year when she'd send a greeting, she'd ask me to be sure to tell her how the first months of whatever age had gone. It was a custom, and I always tried to remember to tell her when it came time for her birthday.

In 1994 my mother's second stroke happened in late June. Friend's birthday is early in July. I was running late getting a greeting to her, and in fact mailed it on her birthday, with an apology and an explanation of the recent events. I told her that "our" age up till then had gone pretty well.

A couple of weeks later she wrote back. Now bear in mind that this was someone I had known for many years, from her student days at Carolina. And someone with whom correspondence was reasonably frequent. We basically knew what was going on in each other's lives, even though she lived across the continent. So when I saw that the envelope in my hand was from her, I expected some comment on what I had written, and an update on her life.

Got the update. Seems she had decided that in honor of her birthday, she was going to start a non-profit corporation to deal with her favorite group of people in need. Enclosed was a lot of blurb about said corporation, and an envelope for my convenience, since she was sure I would want to make a donation.

The only personal thing in the whole letter was "Thank you for the birthday card." Except that year I had not sent a birthday card at all, but had used plain notepaper for my greeting.

Since I was in no position financially (and she pretty much knew that) to make such a donation, I didn't. I don't think I replied at all, in fact. I usually try to ignore things I consider tacky.

And I wasn't really surprised the following November, when there was no greeting from her.

Text © copyright 2000-2002 Becky