40th birthdays
Greg asks why I use this picture, but it turns out he's been correct in saying I never take pictures of him. (One of the kids took this at JC Penny--he was trying on a 'skinny' suit, and much like his Meijer model counterpart, could pull off the look, but unfortunately, not the pants...at least not without some help.) Is this really his best "blue steel"?
My Greg turned 40 last Friday, so for exactly ten days we're the same age (yes, I'm a year older than he is--get 'em young, am I right?) He made his entrance into this world on a snowy January day, two weeks early, and he hasn't been early since. The night before his 40th he had a nightmare that I sold our house right from underneath him for $267,000--then bought the house next door. In the dream, he was awkwardly standing in our neighbor's driveway, looking at our place thinking of all the house projects he now could never do. I assured him this was an anxiety dream and I'd never sell the house without talking to him first...unless someone offered $367,000, in which case I may let them have him too. (We all have our price.) On the day of his birthday he said he felt a little sad--just thinking back to his 30th birthday party and how much has changed since then but how quickly that time has gone. I realized it has taken me a good year to become accustomed to being 40, just in time to turn 41. I think it's a combination of being as close in age to 20 as I am to 60...and that line on my forehead that doesn't seem to go away even after I'm finished scowling. I still have moments where I hear someone is in their 40's and I my first thought is, "Oh sure, but they're old...", right before my smug world comes crashing down around me again. (I'm starting to think I deserve that wrinkle.) But alas, I'm trying hard to make this post not all about me, as it was just Greg's birthday.
So, besides anxiety dreams, a twinge of sadness about the swift passing of time, and age delusions, Greg and I celebrate birthdays differently in three main ways.
1. Who we tell: Greg will tell no one it's his birthday. Not. A. Soul. Says he doesn't know how to work it into conversation. One year I emailed a bunch of his co-workers to give them a heads up and he got lots of birthday kudos. He said he appreciated it, but later told me I didn't have to do that again. (He doesn't feel comfortable with too much attention.) Me, I like to give ample warning of my impending birthday, to save people the embarrassment of forgetting. (I'm super thoughtful that way.) Did I mention my birthday is ten days after Greg's? (See how easy that was?)
2. How we celebrate: Well, I'll go first, since my 40th birthday happened first (a year ago, January 16). The September before my birthday, I opened what I thought was my facebook on Greg's computer, only to read an inbox message from his cousin Jill (who is a friend of mine-–and actually the reason we met) saying something about a Beth Moore convention in Canada, and is he flying everyone out? I slowly closed his laptop and sat silently in the dark. I knew I could either ignore the whole thing and go along with the 'surprise,' or come clean and take control of the whole situation. I really had no choice (if you know me at all, you know I'm #1, cheap--thus Greg's money nightmare-- and #2, I don't like surprises...except that time Greg sent me to an hour-long massage, that was good.) So even though Greg was disappointed I'm such a good detective, it really took a lot of pressure off of him and I finished the planning and execution of the weekend trip to Toronto (my home-land) with four of my closest friends, where we stayed with my aunt and uncle and heard Beth Moore speak in person. (A dream of mine!)
This was something I never would have done on my own...And Greg made it all happen, and therein received the credit he deserved.
Anyhow, that was party number one. Party number two was, again, thrown by me, only this time with my fellow birthday friend Sonya (and we also celebrated our friend Emily), at Coppercraft Distillery . Sonya and I each sang some songs for the brave crowd (brave because we had a horrible ice storm that night, not because of our singing). Sonya can sing. Greg can sing (and did), but I'm not a professional singer...but didn't let it stop me as you only turn 40 once, and can get away with a lot when it's your birthday.
I'm not 100% sure what we're talking about here, but it looks like it's rather important.
So, fast-forward a year, I asked Greg how he'd like to celebrate his big birthday...a snack at school, a surprise of some sort...a party? He chose an intimate dinner party (not one of the options) with three of his best friends and their wives (who are also his friends). So last Saturday we gathered for a meal and we talked about life, love, whiskey, and what we appreciate about Greg, and it was exquisitely delightful and meaningful, without any of the pomp and circumstance. To each his own.
In addition, because I won't be outdone, and because I enjoy talking about things almost as much as doing them, my plan is to have Greg meet his brothers in Chicago and attend a U2 concert this summer. And BAM, I'm back on top! Er, I mean...happy birthday, Greg!
3. How we celebrate each other: Greg and I do not get gifts for each other. I mean, we do, but not on demand. You see, first there's Christmas, then two days later our anniversary, ten days after that is Greg's birthday, and ten days after that (on the 16th of January), my birthday. It's just too much. And honestly, I've always told Greg the best gift he can give me is a balanced checkbook. He learned this lesson the hard way when, while I was pregnant with Kate, he spent $40 on anti-stretch mark cream as a 'surprise' for me. It did not go over well. (For two reasons.) Anywho, what we do do for each other is write cards and notes. I was reading through some of our old keepsakes and will give you a taste of our talents.
Greg wrote this poem for me. In case you have bad eyes, I'll type it below:
"Secrecy"
For my love on her 33rd birthday
When raindrops run
over your eyebrows faster
than you can wipe
away, I want to meet you--
as you've so often met me.
We'll huddle under the umbrella,
a two-legged fungi,
and yell laughter to each other
over snapping raindrops all around.
No one can follow
our rain-splattered footprints--
know the reason for our gait
or interpret the distance between our sides--
to where not a drop of you
is wasted on me:
perhaps in a late-night mealtime
as our words breathe in and out
and coax a candle flame to mime our tales
to all the earless things around,
or as I gently untie the knot between your shoulder blades.
This is how I want to meet you--
the way you deserve to be met--
in the secret rub of my palm to your back,
and in the blessing my hand whispers
to your shoulder
as you turn away to sleep.
My turn, a card. (I talk a lot about my friend Cheri, because she came over once when Greg was mopping the kitchen floor by hand, and she couldn't stop talking about it.)
Happy 33rd B-day Greg!
I think this will be a good year for you!
As the secretary of the Greg Schemper fan club, here are the notes from our latest meeting:
-re-cap of how Greg washes the floors by hand and cleans the bathrooms.
-we remember how nice he is on the phone to Sarah's friends...makes small talk and asks lots of questions.
-Cheri was surprised to hear that Greg plays the piano....and sings! Oversight on the President's part.
-we remember how Greg lets Sarah sleep in every day till 10:30 and watches the kids.
-adjourn till next week.
We all love you (me, Grandma D. & Cheri), but I love you the most.
Happy b-day! --S.
So, there you have it. Seems we all deal with big birthdays differently...some with more drama than others, but either way with the same end result. And yes, I know what you're thinking...but to be completely fair, I did have a whole extra year to work on my card.