Another year...or was it much more than that?

Was it the best birthday ever? That's the question that fluttered around my, by then blown away, mind as the seconds ticked (digital watches don't really tick, do they?) towards midnight on April 13th. I reflected on birthdays past and came up with the (what else?) top 5 memorable birthdays in the WT's life.

Age 6 - the first birthday I can really remember. We're living in smog filled, gray Ankara (now the cleanest city in Turkey - and remember for your Who Wants to be a Millionaire appearance: it is the capital of Turkey - not Istanbul) and daily brownouts, gunfire, bombs exploding in the distance and doing homework by a kerosene lamp are the regular fixtures of my life. Turkey's in anarchy and inching towards what military insiders call a revolution for democracy and everyone else aptly names "The 1980 Coup" - the third one in 30 years. Sylvester Stallone later uses the same technique but a faster frequency to release multiple needed and unneeded sequels to the Rocky franchise. My baby sister is a twinkle in my mom's eye. Friends from kindergarden and the dreary Soviet style concrete apartment block we live in congegrate in our small yet functional 3 bedroom apartment. My grandmother and aunt are there. My cheeks are full of aunt-kisses - the technical term for someone leaving huge lipstick marks whereever they smooched. There is chocolate cake and the bully who beat me up just a couple of weeks ago. I am introduced to the concept that one receives gifts from people one barely knows for their birthday. Greed is awakened.

Age 10 - now living in opulent, cosmopolitan and for-women-utterly-constricting Jeddah, Saudi Arabia. My bewonderment about the fact that images on TV can exhibit color, although waning, is still in force. I have discovered Lego and most of my free time is spent constructing fantastical space stations and ships featuring tiny yellow men out of my 750 piece Lego Space Set. The birthday is a microcasm of my school experience in Saudi Arabia - there are at least 20 countries represented in our maroon carpeted, airy apartment. From Gambia to Senegal, to Australia, to the US, to Greece and beyond - kids being kids.We feverishly gallop about while my mom tries to keep a semblance of order, juggling food, kids and dad as she always has. Saudi Arabia is about excess - religion, passion and, to my delight at the time, consumerism. What did Marks (of Marks and Spencer fame) say? Malls are the opium of the masses. Actually I made that up. In any event, the gift-haul is stupendous and, of course, totally unnecessary. I don't know it at the time but the gift of the evening turns out to be a cheap board game featuring a pop-up clear plastic dome in the middle with dice in it. The game is called Trouble - this marks the beginning of a fierce rivalry between my sister and I. Through trickery (trickeration? strategery?) and conniving, I hold an insurmountable lead in the overall series at 100-31-3 (the last number reflecting the number of times that one of us has walked away in complete anger at the other, resulting in an abandoned game).

Age 17 - I am now in Munich, Germany, living at the CVJM (Christlicher Verein Junger Menschen - that's the Y yo). It's a men's only dorm and the highlight of my room is a shaggy green carpet and the printing press I can see across in the other building. The room is located on the third floor of a drab 70s apartment building, only a mile from the Olympic Stadium. The floor is dominated by an odd mix of Mechanical Engineering and Theology students. Arguments break out frequently over the physics requirements of miracles. Much muesli is eaten and compost piles are de rigueur. My boombox is dialed into Bayern 3 with its hokey mix of contemporary and 60s hits. The weather is unseasonably cool. I haven't seen my parents for 9 months and I'm lonely. I hate not being able to articulate exactly the way I feel, although my spoken and written German is good enough to gain college admission. My birthday is a solitary affair, culminating in a game of pool with a couple of other Turks and a lot of beer. I stumble home well before midnight and climb in bed and contemplate with a twisted sobriety that when I wake up, this day will be over.


Age 21 - I can finally buy alcohol again. Legally. I arrive in Austin, Texas in January with a liver which is in admittedly bad shape after 2.5 years in the land of beer (and chocolate), I am stupified to learn that I cannot devour any liquid bread until 4 months after my arrival. I live in the dorms, work on building a spare tire by eating Pizza Classics $4.99 medium pizza as often as possible. On this night, I break my vow against tequila shots. I love this weird, diverse, can-do, confidently-aggressive, all-accepting country which I've just arrived in. Austin feels alive - maybe it's the heat (not the humidity). I'm with a limited set of people but I drink - to excess - my paper on John Stuart Mill is due in a couple of days. His hieararchy of pleasures ensures I at least think about whether I should take the night off. I've just reearned my liberty - I don't drink hard again for some time (OK - a couple of months). I receive a phone call, CD and postcard from my parents - this becomes the classic gift from the fam going forward. Slowly I care most and look forward to the phone call - it makes my day.


Age 33 - well - this was just yesterday. And it makes the memorable list. Why? Because of Seda, Beth, Dave, Oscar, Beth, Pam, Jason, Lola, Sofia, Manuel, Eddy, Emory, Elias, Tina, Chris, John, Jim, Brian were there. The story: my sister organizes a surprise party which apparently was on, then off, then on, but somewhere else. This all takes place behind my back via a huge number of e-mails. Somehow, via a true comedy of errors, which features missed flights, fallen trees which cut off land lines, and umpteen changes of plan, in the true of spirit of Stoppard's Shakeseare in Love ("The natural condition is one of insurmountable obstacles on the road to imminent disaster. Strangely enough, it all turns out well. It's a mystery. ") it all spiffily climaxes with everyone making it on time to the happy hour while unsuspecting me slowly downs a Modelo. I stand flabbergasted at the San Jose Hotel on South Congress as my sister makes an entrance with Beth and the birthday cake. My sister is supposed to be in LA? I just spoke with her a couple of hours ago. My jaw drops and I break into an oafish grin which is tatooed to my face until this morning. What started off last midnight in an almost full moon and drinks at the Draught Horse, included a serenade in a boxing gym over a crackly speaker, concludes with a night with good friends, family, camaraderie.

'Twas truly a day to remember - this past year has certainly had its downs but family and a true group of friends helped guide me through most of the stormy waters. As we say in Turkish: teşekkürler y'all.