Describe one of your most memorable birthdays.

by Eileen Donnersberger on May 28, 2018.

“Birthdays should be a special day,” my brother Jack once said to me. “I believe that whatever you do on your birthday is what you will do the rest of that year.” So, he continued, I always take off work and golf.”

That made no sense to me. He was at point in his life he had to work. He had a family to support, he had a mortgage, he had just purchased a new car and was facing college tuition in a few years for his two daughters. If he was to maintain that life, he’d need a job all year, not golf. 

But it did get me thinking about birthdays. What did I do on birthdays past? I surely didn’t golf, but did I remember anything about those days Jack said should be “special?”

So, I began to think. 

The earliest memory I have of my birthday celebrations was when I was about six or seven. My memory of it is a bit hazy but I do recall it was in our basement. The basement was unfinished with an unpainted concrete floor, exposed water pipes with the ringer-washing machine off in a corner. I don’t think we had a dryer at that time. My mom would hang the clothes to dry in the back yard in nice weather and in the basement when cold or rainy. 

Dominating the space was an old coal-burning furnace that looked to me like an octopus. I later found out that they actually were called Octopus Furnaces because of the huge duct work which stretched from the furnace to various vents in the ceiling. They were gravity driven, meaning the furnace heated the air that would slowly rise up through the duct system (because hot air rises). I think at some point my parents had a fan put in, so the hot air was given a push on its way up. 

But, my mother transformed that dreary basement space into something magical. It was close to Halloween, so she hung paper ghosts and witches from the pipes and scattered in between them were orange and black crepe paper ribbons reaching almost the floor. We bobbed for apples in a big old wash tub, played Pin-the-Tail-on-the-Donkey and Musical Chairs. In our Halloween costumes, we ran around the basement dodging the colorful ribbons. Somewhere I still have an old photo of me sitting at the head of the table with my birthday cake in front of me.

Let’s see if I can remember the names of my friends from back then. There was, of course, Agnes Duffy who lived next door and was only six weeks older than me. She was my best friend. Bernadette Clark lived about five houses south of us and was, I think, a year younger. She came from a family of five. Judy, Barbara, and Janet Mair – – all ages within a few years of me give or take – – lived directly across the street and came from a family of 12. Judy and Donna Jolivet, were a year younger and a few years older respectively. The Jolivet’s lived across the street and down the block. They had a frame house with a big front porch. Next to them was an empty lot on which their grandfather grew vegetables and a few fruit trees. I remember climbing the trees on hot summer days to pick the fruit and sitting in the tree eating whatever we picked. After, we’d play Tarzan and jump from the tree the roof of their garage probably ten feet away. It’s amazing none of us fell and broke an arm or worse. 

The next birthday I have any clear recollection of is when we lived on 98th and Oakley. I don’t know why this memory sticks out. I remember it was a beautiful day, warm and sunny. My birthdays had always been cold and dark and rainy (remember, this was way before global warming), so a nice November 2nd was unusual. I heard a knock and opened the side door very early in the morning and there stood my dad with a bag full of donuts and big smile on his face. I can still see him lighting up when he saw me and saying, “Happy Birthday to my good girl.” Makes me want to cry thinking about it. Grandpa Murphy was an extraordinary man, loving and giving, and, as icing on the cake, he had a wicked sense of humor.

My 40th Birthday was another stand-out birthday. Dave threw a party for me in our home on Winchester. It was an old-fashioned house party – – -with the dining room table overflowing with food, the laundry tub full of beer, and every corner of in that big house packed with the laugher of family and friends. My mother got Uncle Charlie playing the piano and soon everyone was up dancing and singing. We did a long snake dance throughout the house singing “When the Saints Come Marching In.” 

I’m really not big on parties for me, although I love throwing them for others. But I did love that 40th party. Mostly, I think, because there were so many people from all aspects of our lives at the time: the older generation (my mother, Aunt Doris, Ann Grogan, Nancy Sullivan) as well as all my and Dave’s siblings, friends from the neighborhood, from work, from high school and – – of course most importantly – – my children.