Birthday Banana

When we are younger, birthdays seem to have some sort of magical air about them.   Nothing beats the attention.  My parents would do everything they could to make our day special.  In our house, growing up, birthdays were always celebrated from the very moment the honored person woke up.    Each birthday started with the Birthday Banana.  

 

We would wake up and before we hopped in the shower, or even brushed our teeth, we knew the first thing to do was head to the breakfast table.  Once we made it to the table, there it was, the peeled banana, sitting on a plate with a birthday candle glowing.  My dad did a lot of overnight travel for his job, so he was not always home to celebrate with the family.  My creative mother made it possible for him to be a part of our special day by instituting the birthday banana.  My dad would call from all points NY or Ontario just to partake in the festivities.  Like clockwork, at 7:30am, the phone would ring and we would be gathered around the table when answering the phone.  With dad on the phone, the rest of the family would sing in unison “Happy Birthday.”   Even today, it is a competition in our family to be the first one to call whoever’s birthday it is to sing. 

 

I turned 18 while I was away at college.  There a lot of changes when you go away to school for the first time.   Some changes you don’t even realize until you are experiencing them.  My freshman year was difficult for me.  My mom wasn’t there to advise me.  My Dad wasn’t there to console me.  My brother and sister weren’t there for me to torment.  I was homesick a lot.  Fortunately, I had made a couple friends.  I met Meggan and Julie at orientation before my first semester and we were never seen without each other from then on.  We were The Three Amigas.  They put up with me, and loved me for who I was.  They were my new extended family.

 

November 6^th fell on a Wednesday in 1991.   At 7am, I had already decided to skip my first class at 8am.  It was my birthday, after all.   In Bowman West, 1^st floor, Room 1111, I was nestled all snug in my bed, when at 7:30am there was a knock at my dorm room door.   Neither my roommate nor I had any intention of getting up and stepping on the cold tile floor.  I shouted, “Who is it?!”  There was no answer, but another knock.  I grunted and got out of bed and opened the door.  Meggan and Julie were standing in the doorway. 

 

Meggan and Julie were roommates and lived in another part of the building that was only accessible by the outside.  It had snowed the night before, as it always snowed before my birthday.  Julie and Meggan were still in their pajamas, all bundled up in their winter gear standing in front of me half asleep, hunched over, holding a partially peeled banana with a candle sticking out of the top.   Julie flicked the lighter and lit the candle attached to the banana in Meggan’s hand.  In low raspy tones, together they sang, sort of, “Happy Birthday.”

 

I could not believe it.  I was laughing and crying at the same time.  How did they know?  I never told them about the Birthday Banana, since I had just met them 3 months prior.  I asked.  They told me, when my parents were visiting 2 weekends prior, my mom let them in on our family tradition and asked if they would please give me my birthday banana and sing to me.  She even brought a candle for them to use so they wouldn’t have to worry about finding one.  

 

A few minutes later, my parents and brother and sister called to sing to me.  The first thing my mom asked after the chorus, in a coy voice, was, “Did you have any visitors this morning?”   Even though my mom was almost 4 hours away from me, it was like she was with me.  She was still making it my special day, Birthday Banana and all.

 

Years have passed and the tradition of the birthday banana lives on with my family.  My children receive theirs every year.  It is never an orange, or a doughnut, or a cupcake.  Always a banana.  A birthday banana.