I always enjoyed the celebration of I-Day, and the fact that it
fell on his birthday was a double pleasure for him. I had no idea
that the day was meant to honor him. Henry and Juliette did not
want it to color his early life, and they kept that part of its
origins a secret from him.
Without knowing its true meaning, I secretly reveled in the fact
that the holiday had the same name as his. One might suppose it was
like a kid named Chris born on Christmas, or a kid named Abe born
on Lincoln’s birthday. To them, it was coincidence, but they
enjoyed it along with everyone else.
This year’s I-day celebration was more subdued that others, with
the President’s assassination only twelve days earlier, but as a
birthday, Henry and Juliette had never let the occasion slip
without a great celebration.
“It’s your birthday!” exclaimed Henry as he tried to get I out of
bed. “You’re a year older than you were yesterday. Do you feel
it?”
“Leave me alone,” I declared in his grogginess. “Let me
sleep.”
“You’ve got a long life ahead to sleep, sleepyhead,” said Juliette.
“But you’ll have to fill your years ahead with more than sleep,
too, I hope.”
“That’s right,” said Henry. “You can’t take it with you when you
die.”
“Henry!”, exclaimed Juliette. “That’s a morbid thought to pass
along to a ten year old.”
“I’m just sayin’,” Henry defended his statement. “He needs to take
advantage of what he’s got now. That will help him get by the
future. After all, ‘another day, another dollar.’”
“If you play your cards right,” Henry turned to I, “you’ll be a
leader and others will follow you. But don’t be overbearing,
because they will turn on you.”
“Henry! That’s enough!” exclaimed Juliette, not quite sure of the
meaning of the words coming out of Henry’s mouth.
“Happy birthday little one, our little son, you’re number one!”
Juliette sang.
I pulled the pillow over his head. His fight with his friends was
too fresh in his mind, and he wasn’t sure he even wanted to go
outside today.
“Just a minute,” Henry cried and he ran out of the room. He
returned smashing a cymbal from the Scrappers drummer’s kit. “Greet
the morning, boy. This oughta get you up!”
I sat up and wiped the sleep from his eyes as the words finally
began to sink in: it was his birthday. He was ten!
Henry and Juliette left him to get dressed and come into the
kitchen for the special breakfast that Juliette prepared. In a way,
having a holiday made it so much easier to celebrate all day long,
and a good breakfast was a good start, as she always told
him.
As I entered, Henry raised his glass of orange juice in a toast,
“The years that follow will be fulfilling,” he predicted. “So live
them well. Always be willing to change your ways to please the
people.”
Juliette turned again to Henry, “What’s gotten into you? Now you’re
being philosophical?”
Henry lowered his glass, but ignored the comment as I dug into the
stack of birthday pancakes. And just as quickly, he wolfed down his
own glass of orange juice.
“Where’s my present? Where’s my present?” I asked in
excitement.
“Now, now. Calm down,” chided Juliette. “Daddy and I didn’t forget.
Henry?”
Henry looked up from his scrambled eggs quizzically, then bopped
his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Oh, right! Just a minute,”
as he left the room.
He returned with a big package, as least three feet on a side, and
I’s eyes widened almost as big.
“This is for you!”
I ran over and began tearing off the wrap, revealing a nondescript
box beneath. He grabbed the edges and tore open the box cover,
peering inside to reveal its contents: another wrapped box.
I, slightly disappointed, pulled the second wrapped box out,
unwrapped and opened it only to reveal a third. With each box
growing smaller by degrees, his excitement as he moved to the final
goal began to wane. When he opened the tenth and final box, all
that remained was an envelope which simply said “Happy 10th
Birthday I!”
I nearly threw it aside in disgust. Juliette encouraged him to open
it.
Inside was a note that read, “Look in the red book on the
bookshelf.” I ran over, expecting to find great riches stuffed
inside, only to find another note. Henry and Juliette chuckled at
the look of consternation on I’s face. That note led to the vase on
the table, the next to the top shelf in the closet, and finally the
tenth note led to a small box hidden behind the salt and pepper
shakers right there on the kitchen table.
I had lost all enthusiasm for the search by then, but Henry urged
him “Go ahead, open it!”
I lifted the lid on the tiny box and turned it over as ten shiny
pennies spilled out. “What’s this?” he dejectedly asked.
“It’s a penny for each of your years,” Henry explained as he picked
one up. “Look! Here’s 1957, the year you turned four!”
I was even more disappointed, and a tear began to form. “That’s
it?” he inquired.
“Well, not quite,” Henry admitted, as he left he room for a second
time, returning this time with something a bit more
substantial.
“It’s a radio!” I said excitedly, “My own radio!” I turned it
on.
“Let’ see if there’s a game on!” Henry suggested.
Juliette warned Henry, ”Let him listen to what he wants.”
I tuned to a local rock station and started to do The Twist.
Henry reached for the volume knob, “Hey! Not so loud!”
“Honey, it’s his birthday,” Juliette said. “Let him enjoy
it.”
To I, she said, “Would you like to see your birthday cake?”
“Yeah! What kind?”
“It’s your favorite. Chocolate!” She pulled it triumphantly from
the pantry shelf.
“Oh boy! Let have some!”
“No, no. It’s barely past breakfast. We’ll wait until after dinner.
Why don’t you go out and show your radio to your friends?”
I ran outside to see Spike, Isaac and Osgood playing ball in the
street. “Hey look what I got. A radio!”
“So what!” yelled back Spike, “Get outta here. Were playin’!” The
fight of a few weeks before had not yet been forgotten.
“Can I play?” I inquired, willing to bury the hatchet.
Isaac boldly stepped up. “No, we already started. Go away!”
Once again, Osgood was emboldened to add. “Yeah, go away!”
As the boys ran off, I headed back home in despair.