Columns

Weekend Edition: Inside the birthday party

James Bornemeier
James Bornemeier

Z: The music is on and I cannot resist. Family members are on the perimeter of the living room. The floor is mine. I must dance. And I start whirling and turning and waving my arms in a sinuous fashion, much to the approval of the onlookers. I get abundant applause for my better moves, and particularly when I lip-sync some of the more dramatic lyrics. I shrug and look crestfallen when the music calls for such emoting. When the song ends I evoke Callas at her most tragic. Then the next song begins, a kind of calypso number, and I’m back at it, throwing in some new jukes that are met with murmurs of praise. I’m not sure I have ever been this good before. I am the music. The music is me.

B: I must say the kid is a complete ham but you have to admire the way she lets it flow. You hate to think of the day when she no longer can be so unselfconsciously joyful.

P: Yep, if we know anything, it’s that life will break you down and load you up with distractions and sorrows. Although, who knows, maybe she’ll be the exception and hang on to this joie de vivre.

B: Good luck with that.

Z: I truly have never felt this good in my entire life. I wonder if these people have any clue to where my head and heart are at on this day. After three songs, I am working up a mild sweat. I wonder if Garland felt this way on a good night. Rather than performance, it seems more like a transaction. They are begging for it and I am delivering it. One more song and I’ll take a break and play chase-down with Manda and Steph. Leave them wanting more.

B: The tutu does seem to be her natural uniform.

P: She probably sleeps in it.

R: Randi, will you please get out the ice? Thanks.

Z: I’m going to get some grapes, and then play chase-down.

M: This cheese dip is addictive. Mary Ann always brings it, along with those chips shaped like buckets so you can scoop it up.

B: The only time I eat salami is at these get-togethers. I don’t want to think about what salami actually is made of.

M: No one is touching the little pretzels for some reason.

Z: Manda and Steph have got me cornered! I’m trapped in the kitchen!

B: Have you read Trollope? I was an English major and managed to graduate never having read a word of him. The New Yorker says he is way more popular now than when he was alive.

M: I haven’t but Judy loves him. Hey, Judy! Trollope over here!

J: I luuuv Trollope.

Z: I’m going to hide from Manda and Steph by diving head-first into the sofa!

B: Damn, the Red Sox are losing to the Yankees. The pitching staff is way too thin!

R: It’s time for presents!

Z: On one hand, presents are great; on the other hand, I don’t need any more stuff. But this keyboard is pretty cool. And you can never have too many tutus.

R: It’s time for cakes and candles!

Z: One chocolate and one red. Look store-bought, which is a good thing. Three candles on each. Blowing them out is a … piece of cake! (Big round of applause.) And then they sing. Which makes me want to dance some more, but it’s not as well received as my earlier performance. I sense the party is winding down.

B: When do you want to go back? I’m ready now.

D: I don’t want to be the first to go.

B: Hohboy.

D: You have to admit that was a pretty nice third birthday party for Zoe.

B: All my birthdays added up would not be as nice as this birthday, but all I want to do is get back to the city, grab some Chinese and watch the Kentucky Derby.

Z: I will put on my new butterfly wings and do some more chase-down with Manda and Steph. They might not be back for a while.

B: Great. Sox lost.