A Birthday Party

I haven’t had many birthday parties. What I had were birthday celebrations, dinners, the like. Mostly just with family. But actual parties? None that I haven't thrown myself.

My first that I remember was in Timmins. I was in my early grades at Pinecrest, but after I’d been held back, because I remember that it was those boys who came: Larry and Tony and Leslie and Mark. David Miller, too. David was my neighbour, my first friend in Timmins.

I was excited. I’d never had a party where school friends were in attendance. In fact, I can’t remember my ever having a birthday party before, at all. So, excited is an understatement. I was bouncing off the walls. I would check the street about every minute or so, regardless how much time remained until the guests were set to arrive.

In time, they did. I recall not being sure what my role was. Host? My mother certainly instructed me to greet all my guests at the door. Man of the hour? Prince? I think my mother may have told me I was the host of the party, but I would not have understood what that meant, at that age. What did a host do? They entertained their guests, my mother said. Me, entertain them? I thought it was my day. Wasn’t it?

I can’t say what was for dinner. Hot dogs? Most likely. I was a kid, not terribly fond of most meats at the time, so hot dogs must have been on the menu (in later years, the standard was meatloaf, mashed potatoes and peas; how that came about I'm not sure; I suppose it was deemed my favourite meal, and it came to be a tradition; but my favourite meal was spaghetti and meatballs, but I suppose that might have been deemed either too messy, or too pedestrian for a birthday celebration). There was cake. Of course there was cake. That’s what a wound-up kid needs, more sugar.

I was a bit of a tyrant, I think. Actually, I know I was a bit of a tyrant. I wanted to be the center of attention. I wanted to play with every toy. I took toys away from the other kids. I had a tantrum. My mother was having none of it.
She demanded that I behave. She demanded that I let my guests play with the toys, too. I had a fit. They were my toys!

I ended up getting a spanking and being sent to my room for a time.
Did I deserve it? You bet I did.