trout whisperer

 

Identity(essential self)

 

Identity(essential self)

When I turned twenty five years old I celebrated my birthday like never before. I told everyone when the annual day of refection would be. i started inviting people almost two weeks in advance. I was not looking for gifts, but I did like the idea of having a crowd. my twenty fifith was going to be a birthday to remember.

 

The group to attend was diverse. My mental list of invitees ranged from a female church pastor, who was husband hunting to secretaries at work. I dropped hints at every job site I visited and contractors got an invite. Nobody was safe, from old  military buddies I had served with, to  Political hot heads, and even wood tick  outdoor enthusiasts who hunted, hiked or fished with me.  If I knew you, you were invited.

 

After making arrangements with a small restaurant that was equipped with a dance floor and bar I thought that covered the space needed.  They offered a dedicated waitress to handle our needs and I bought and brought my own cake. The party favors or decorations I could care less about so I skipped the theme aspect of streamers or balloons. But the hallowed hall, cake and cocktails were set.

 

The turnout was abit more than I expected. Who knew my birthday or free beer would be such a hit.  I did not have to entertain any special lady; I was on my own and single, so whoever walked in or past me I could just visit. I never had to mentally look over my shoulder  to see if the “girlfriend” needed a beverage.  I remember distinctly thinking how free I was and unencumbered by the “date” mentality.

 

The fun flowed. Happy birthday was shouted, sung and slapped into my body. The guys all punched my shoulder or shook my hand and made clever cracks about me being an old man. Time to settle down and better think about retirement.

 

Chris Hicks being the same age as I had just achieved, said it takes a lot of nerve to throw your own birthday bash. I tried to explain to him after a couple of cocktails that it was in fact a celebration of the anniversary of MY birth. Three years later, and just a side note, he had stronger financial resources to bring to bare.  My alcohol induced explanation that evening must have had an effect, he baked a bigger cake and through a mega party.

 

 

Women hugged me or politely extended salutations of the day until the liquid courage started to flow.  Salutations changed to invitations but I was really enjoying the, me myself and I of the evening. My buddies never got friendlier, that they just got louder. The women became more forward, but in a subtle way.

 

I danced, ate and drank. Never got to full of cake, food, liquor or myself. Never had a birthday like that ever again. Now at fifty years of age when the day comes around I still let everyone know I made it another year. My birthday in recent years when guests arrive,  I do more host activities than basking in the glow. Now days i’m not about to go dancing and i’d just as soon get to bed early and skip the head full of wake up juice we all know as a hangover.

 

When your twenty five all the candles did send some soft light, at fifty the cake surface would not glow, it would dissolve from to much heat. I look back on a day when I stopped to smell my personal roses. The flowers were as red then, as they are now, but the thorns of youth have definetly softeened, and if some very christain lady made me a subtle but serious offer, well then i would surely sit and listen. Hey, maybe my fiftyfirst birthday party will out do my twentyfifth and  not in uncountable numbers of guests, but a night with just a table for two.

 

The trout whisperer

When I turned twenty five years old I celebrated my birthday like never before. I told everyone when the annual day of refection would be. I started inviting people almost two weeks in advance. I was not looking for gifts, but I did like the idea of having a crowd. My twenty fifith was going to be a birthday celebration to remember.

 

The group to attend was diverse. My mental list of invitees ranged from a female church pastor, who was husband hunting to secretaries at work. I dropped hints at every job site I visited, and contractors got an invite. Nobody was safe, from old  military buddies I had served with, to Political hot heads, and even wood tick outdoor enthusiasts who hunted, hiked or fished with me.  If I knew you, you were invited.

 

After making arrangements with a small restaurant that was equipped with a dance floor and bar I had the “space needed” rented.  They offered a dedicated waitress to handle our party room and I bought and brought my own cake. The party favors or decorations I could care less about so I skipped the theme aspect of streamers or balloons or twenty five years. But the hallowed hall, cake and cocktails were set.

 

The turnout was abit more than I expected. Who knew my birthday  would be such a hit.  I did not have to entertain any special lady; I was on my own and single, so whoever walked in or past me I could just visit. I never had to mentally look over my shoulder  to see if the “girlfriend” needed a beverage.  I remember distinctly thinking how free I was and unencumbered by the “date” mentality.

 

The fun flowed. Happy birthday was shouted, sung and slapped into my body. The guys all punched my shoulder or shook my hand and made clever cracks about me being an old man. Time to settle down and better think about retirement. Plenty of male masculinity cracks as well.

 

One special guest,Chris Hicks, who being the same age as I had just achieved, said it takes a lot of nerve to throw your own birthday bash. I tried to explain to him after a couple of cocktails that it was in fact a celebration of the anniversary of MY birth. Three years later, and just a side note, he had stronger financial resources to bring to bare.  My alcohol induced explanation that evening must have had an effect, he baked a bigger cake and through a mega party.

 

 

Women hugged me or politely extended salutations of the day until the liquid courage started to flow.  Salutations changed to invitations but I was really enjoying the, me myself and I of the evening. My buddies never got friendlier, that they just got louder. The women became more forward, but in a subtle way.

 

I danced, ate and drank. Never got to full of cake, food, liquor or myself. Never had a birthday like that ever again. Now at fifty years of age when the day comes around I still let everyone know I made it another year. My birthday in recent years when guests arrive,  I do more host activities than basking in the glow. Now days I’m not about to go dancing and I’d just as soon get to bed early and skip the head full of wake up juice we all know as a hangover.

 

When your twenty five all the candles did send some soft light, at fifty the cake surface would not glow, it would dissolve from to much heat. I look back on a day when I stopped to smell my personal roses. The flowers were as red then, as they are now, but the thorns of youth have definetly softeened, and if some very christain lady made me a subtle but serious offer, well then I would surely sit and listen. Hey, maybe my fiftyfirst birthday party will out do my twentyfifth and  not in uncountable numbers of guests, but a night with just a table for two.

 

The trout whisperer