A birthday surprise

“I am never going here with you again,” Burt whispers. Maybe he even said “anywhere with you,” but you get the gist.

It was a wonderful party. Our friends brought him thoughtful gifts. At my suggestion, we sang him the birthday song. (Do we still owe someone royalties on that?)

The first arrivals talked among themselves about their Brooklyn roots. I interjected Burt, who has genuine Brooklyn roots himself, but he was a reluctant talker. Funnily enough, he had asked the weekend aide if he knew 805 Avenue O (his old Bklyn address) just minutes before the doorbell chimed.

We women of the party [and some men] were all happy to see each other. There was love and energy in the room.

Burt tasted but did not stick with any of the food offered him. He sat back and observed.

My youngest friend was tasked with flirting a smile out of him. She did.

The arrival of his weekend carer coaxed another smile from him.

Everyone respectfully made their excuses to move on in the time slot we had designated.

Two hours for Burt was likely about 75 minutes longer than he could process.

Then we had our stragglers, a late arriving sweetheart of a neighbor and a lovely couple from the next block.

Each came and went quickly, not before making a tribute to the man of the hour.

The two aides helped by assisting in getting Burt into the bedroom. Oh, there were protests at the process, but I could not have budged him without them. 

It was fun. I was so glad to have this (likely last but significant party) for my birthday boy.

I also really welcomed the friendship everyone brought with them to Burt’s 85th!