Surviving My Birthday: The 2020 Version

 

Patty thank you for the card 

Garret Mountain was very gray and rainy

Skylands perennial garden still had some color 

The annual garden was pretty much spent 

State Line Hawk Watch photo taken on a sunnier day 

Phil

Birthdays can be hard for those of us who are alone in the universe.

Here is my annual, "I survived my birthday" blog post.

 

I had an important and unavoidable doctor's appointment on my birthday so I did some fun things before the actual day. Saturday I went to Skylands. The sky was white and there wasn't much light. The gardens are straggling to their last hints of color. The Mexican sunflowers, which, it seems like only yesterday, overwhelmed the eye with orange, were mostly withered, gray skeletons. A while back, swallowtails avoided bullying bumblebees amidst the blossoms. Saturday I saw only one monarch, and, of course, no hummingbirds, which always look like hallucinations, anyway.

 

The large, scary-looking leaves of the poisonous castor bean plants are green with a purple wash – an ominous color. Sickly things are green with a purple wash. Eight points jut out from the center of star-shaped leaves that are up to three feet wide. These prehistoric-looking plants dominated the annual garden. The poison ricin is obtained from castor beans, as is castor oil, a laxative. This web page proclaims many different health benefits of castor oil.

 

There were still a few, brave flowers remaining in the annual garden. The spicebush leaves are now all yellow, though they still smell as enticing as ever, like a kitchen full of cinnamon-and-nutmeg-laced cookies baking, with a mug of cold, fresh apple cider on the side. A couple of frogs soaked up the sun on a log.

 

Sunday I went to the State Line Hawk Watch. Again, the sky was white and the light dull. There weren't many birders there. A slim, gray-haired gentleman mentioned his book "The Real James Bond" and I realized I was talking to Jim Wright, a famous New Jersey birder. He was in competition with a birder in Massachusetts, whom he contacted by phone. I asked what the stakes were. The goal was to spot as many raptors as possible, and the prize was a Hershey bar. Alas, there were not many birds, but I did see an immature bald eagle, red-tailed hawks, a merlin, a peregrine falcon, an osprey, the usual black and turkey vultures, and a red-shouldered hawk.

 

I also ran into Marc Chelemer, one of New Jersey's best birders. As we were standing on the hawk watch, Marc raised his binoculars to his eyes and called out, "Red-shouldered hawk." I was astounded. I saw only a dark, bird-shaped silhouette in the distance. I asked Marc how he knew it was a red-shouldered hawk. He said the light crescents at the bird's wrists. I saw no such crescents. The Sibley Guide says that red-shouldered hawks have a "reaching" posture while flying. I have no idea what that means but I offer it for what it is worth. Anyway, it was fun to run into Marc.

 

Afterward I went to Pizza Town in Elmwood Park, considered by some to be among New Jersey's best pizza.

 

Next day was Monday, my birthday. I had leftover pizza for breakfast and dropped into Facebook.

 

Sue, a woman I had interacted with for a quarter of a century on the web, but never met in person, posted, in response to Columbus Day, about America's "racist, extremist, xenophobic, colonialist, white supremacist underbelly." I said that her post was hypocritical. She lives in America. If she hates this country so much, she could leave. She told me we shouldn't be Facebook friends any more. I posted a long response, here.

 

I posted that long post partly for myself, but also to invite Sue into deepening our exchange. She was outraged that I called her stance – of hating and denouncing America, of cheering on recent anti-American pogroms, but of living in America – hypocritical. I wanted to let her know what I think, and offer her a chance to tell me what I was missing. That didn't happen. Sue just said adios.

 

I feel sad about this exchange. I don't feel sad about Sue cutting off Facebook contact. I understand that what I said was confrontational and she has every right to cut me off. Also, she's very anti-American and that gets old. I could write her posts for her. Just plug in "racist transphobic, colonialist, xenophobic," here and there in your sentence. Like, take, "I went to the store to buy dog food and coffee" and, using the woke speech generator, it becomes, "I went to the imperialist, white supremacist grocery store to buy xenophobic dog food and transphobic coffee," and you're all set.

 

I feel sad because I fear that I hurt and insulted her by calling her a hypocrite, and it's not my job, as a Christian, to go around hurting and insulting people. So maybe I shouldn't have spoken up. Maybe remaining silent would have been more kind.

 

At the same time, it's not my job, as a Christian, to remain silent in the face of evil, and hatred is evil. It's part of a much larger evil that results in destruction and death. I want to speak against that evil.

 

How did Jesus do it? All I know is I'm falling down on the job. Sue, I'm sorry I hurt you. But what you said was wrong. I don't know how to handle this. And I seem never to learn. When to speak up, when to be silent, how to speak the truth without offending people. I obsess on these questions and I still screw up.

 

Well, the phone rang. It was the doctor's office, canceling my appointment. Had I known he was going to cancel, I could have made better plans for the day. As it was, I got sucked into watching the Amy Coney Barrett hearings on YouTube. I cannot resist the lure of a Senate Judiciary Hearing.

 

I'm a registered Democrat and a former leftist. Watching my former comrades attack Amy Coney Barrett in the most misogynist, intolerant, and anti-Catholic of ways was both nauseating and fascinating, like watching a praying mantis devour her mate. Watching ACB stand up to them with strength and intelligence was inspirational.

 

I went to Garret Mountain. Because of the rain and cold I had the place almost all to myself. I saw five people during my entire walk. I listened to the RadioShack transistor radio I inherited from my brother Joe. Curtis Sliwa, on WABC, was hosting a pro-Italian program. The anti-Columbus-Day hate campaign is also an anti-Italian-American campaign, and Italians know it. Italian New Yorkers and New Jerseyites called in with stories of Italian, Irish, and Polish wakes. Many had relatives who tried to jump into coffins or graves of deceased loved ones. Those were the days.

 

I decided I'd like to have chocolate chip mint ice cream, a treat I rarely indulge in. I went to ShopRite and bought some.

 

I had dal bhaat tarkari for dinner, one of my favorite meals. It's what I used to eat in Nepal. Nepal is a food-deficit nation. It doesn't produce enough food to feed all the citizens. As a Peace Corps volunteer in a remote outpost, there were times I ate wild plants that looked like what I knew to be edible plants back in the US, I was so hungry. Some volunteers had to be sent home because they couldn't keep up a normal weight. When you got to a "city" – that is a town with more than two streets of inhabited houses – and you found a good "dal bhaat tarkari" – that is rice, lentils, and vegetables – eating would provide so much satisfaction. So, to this day, my body associates dal bhaat tarkari with satisfaction.

 

Dal bhaat is accompanied by spicy condiments. I remember once, at a Newar wedding, I was served this spectacular, powdery something that tasted of salt, heat, and sour. I have no idea what it was. In the remote hills I used to eat something made from lapsi, or pickled Nepali hog plums. And then there was this very thick, mind-blowing sour, black syrup made from reduced lemons. 

I can't get these items in the US, so I improvise. I had Mrs. Renfro's Texas hot green salsa. I also had Ajvar Perustija from Macedonia. This is a very delicious spread made from roasted red peppers, roasted eggplant, sunflower oil, salt, and vinegar. And I had Mother's Mixed Hot Aachar, an Indian combination of mangos, carrots, hot peppers, asafetida, oil, and salt.

 

Afterward, I had no room for chocolate chip mint ice cream.

 

I watched "Angel Eyes." I recently saw "Infidel," a new Jim Caviezel movie. I adore Jim Caviezel and wanted to see more of him, so a kind friend made a copy of the movie for me. (I am afraid to go to theaters during the pandemic.)

 

Strangely enough, "Angel Eyes" is about a man who is traumatized because his son is killed in a car accident on his birthday. Well. My brother Phil was killed in a car accident on my birthday. But I'll never be as gorgeous as Jim Caviezel. Life is so unfair.

 

So, I survived my birthday. It wasn't so bad. I didn't crash; I didn't cry.

 

Warm thanks to Facebook friends who sent birthday greetings. :-)

 

Thank you to Patty for sending me a birthday card. You are so sweet you must be an angel.

 

Thank you to the anonymous person who bought me pizza, and for everything else.

 

Thank you to Karen for everything. I'd be lost without you.