Thirty-Seven
It is my 37th birthday.
37. I am 37 years old. How did that happen? I was just a little girl.
This is the time in life when you still feel 21, but your face says otherwise. If you’ve had children, you may fit into all the clothes you wore then, but they look completely different on you now. Everything has shifted a little, physically, mentally, spiritually. We’re starting to get annoyed at the younger generation because we don’t understand; “They’re wearing 2000s stuff again? Have they seen our prom pictures? What about this era needs to be repeated?” The slang words you don’t know, the music that confuses you, and even some technology for which you have no attention span.
Remember the 70s trend that came around in the late 90s? I remember going to a department store with my mom to find clothes for the upcoming school year and selecting a 70s-style striped shirt. My mom regaled me with memories from the 70s and how fun it was to see these styles coming back. She sounded OLD to me and I’m sure I, a very bratty middle schooler, made many rolled eyes. We’ve made it, Millennials, it’s us, now! The ‘back in my day’ has reached us. The youth have found our embarrassing trends, and they’re making them their own. I have a friend who calls middle school “The Booger Years”, and have you noticed, kids don’t go through that anymore? They’re making braces look cute and they all know how to do their hair. And here we are, remembering our brushed-out curls and mismatched foundation with blue eyeshadow, watching in amazement that anyone would ever willingly put on low-rise jeans again!
With all of our skincare routines and adjustments to our wardrobes so we look sophisticated, yet still with it, it sure is nice to be past a lot of the pressures of being “The Youth.” Maybe we own homes and don’t have to call a landlord about shitty apartment drama anymore. Maybe we’ve been able to travel across the world and reap the benefits of experiencing new cultures. Maybe we’ve reached financial independence. Maybe we have simply settled into who we’ve been becoming all our lives and feel a little sigh of contentment within. However you’ve gotten to 37, or close to it, I hope that it feels great.
It’s a funny threshold, though. It feels like the turning point when you might start becoming hostile about all things youth. You stop listening to new music and decide that everything from your youth is all you need to listen to for the rest of your life. We saw it with our parents and granted, they did come from a pretty spectacular era of music, it stopped in 1974 for a lot of them and that’s probably what’s playing in their car right now. We might start becoming a little cantankerous about new ideas, politically, culturally. It’s a point where we can decide to be stuck in 2011 or continue to adapt to the world that is becoming! Are we going to remain in Google years, or are we going to learn AI? I’m not suggesting either is better, you can age however you’d like, but it does feel like this age is about where that decision begins.
When I look back on 37 years of birthdays, I’m astonished by how few I actually remember. As a Marion, I’ve had a huge aversion to obligating friends and family to my celebrations. At MY OWN WEDDING, I was convinced everyone thought it was absurd, that the food was awful, and that nobody at all was enjoying themselves, and felt guilty for making all of these people come to celebrate us two days after Christmas. I do realize (now) that all of my nonsense is due to the ADHD I’ve always had, but only found out about this year. Maybe if I’d known about it 20 years ago, I’d have enjoyed more things. But I’m looking back on birthdays today, and the memorable ones are memorable because they were small turning points. That’s how today feels.
On my 7th birthday, my parents surprised me with a new bedroom. They had spent several days wallpapering, buying, and rearranging furniture, and I remember walking down the hall having no clue that what they’d been up to was for ME! I had my own desk and a new diary and I put them both to use that night. A perfect memory. This was the best birthday of my life, writing in my new diary, this was pure Marion. Writing in my virtual diary is also how I’ve chosen to spend my birthday 30 years later.
I remember my 9th birthday. My Polish grandmother came over with all kinds of assorted presents for me, but the best part was that she had individually wrapped nine Hershey chocolate bars. I am just as delighted to receive chocolate today as I was on my 9th birthday. She gave me a plaid shirt with a collar and maroon shorts and I remember loving this outfit because I felt Country and Western…which was precious for the East Coastiest of little girls. We went as a family to Baker Park in Downtown Frederick, MD where there was a big laser light show that evening. It was probably some kind of town festival, but my parents let me believe it was all for my birthday.
My 10th birthday was the year I could comprehend what a birthday was. I remember lying down that night thinking “There is no way I have only been here for 10 years.”
I cried on my 16th birthday at cheerleading practice. I’m not sure why I cried, I just know I did. It’s never taken much. It might have been the time that some of the girls were being SO ugly about my very best friend and I finally shouted “YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW HER” in my melodramatic fashion. But I’m not certain this event happened on my birthday. But anyway, cheerleading is so bitchy, I’m sure it hasn’t changed much. My 16th birthday was when I questioned why on earth I was doing cheerleading.
Oh bless the 2000s
On my 17th birthday, I was a senior in High School and I felt like 17 sounded like a VERY mature age. I thought everyone suddenly viewed me as a very mature person.
I have zero memory of turning 18 or 19. And not because drinking was involved; it wasn’t. It was just an unremarkable time in life.
On my 20th birthday, I was in my first apartment off campus and I read in Cosmopolitan magazine that you should start using anti-wrinkle products as young as possible. I spent all my birthday money at CVS buying anti-wrinkle creams. I hope my daughters don’t spend their 20th birthday thinking about their future appearance. Although maybe 37-year-old me should thank 20-year-old me? I’m realizing as I write this that I have ALWAYS needed to lighten up. Why couldn’t I have just been a sensible drunk college kid?
I got my first guitar on my 21st birthday in preparation for my move to Nashville the following year. It was the beginning of my senior year in college and I knew it was time for me to start learning the chords and writing the songs ahead of time. My parents had gone to the local music store and got a recommendation from the local music guy on which guitar they should buy. This was the best birthday present I’ve ever received. So many dreams, so many possibilities on this instrument I had no clue how to play, but was SO ready to get to work.
It finally hit me that day that my high school sweetheart had dumped me approximately 28 times throughout college, and when he ditched me on my birthday, I thought “Maybe it’s ok that this doesn’t continue” and that was it. My best friend and her boyfriend at the time took me to TJIF Fridays, does that place still exist? It was so kind of them. I didn’t even have a proper adult beverage because it was the weekend and the DMV wasn’t open to update me to an ‘of age’ license. It was okay, I was just so excited to put my new guitar in my 2003 Chevy Cavalier, drive back to my college, and do a 2007 Google on how to play the thing!
I remember my 25th birthday. I went to a bar in East Nashville with my dear friend Jimmy, and the bartender fixed me a Bulleit bourbon neat with a thin slice of watermelon. It was a lovely combo. It sounds silly, but at that moment, with my big girl whiskey on nothing, I thought “I’m 25. I’m a woman now.”
Remember the Britney Spears song that goes “I’m not a girl, I’m not yet a woman?”
I do, because I’m 37.
But I remember feeling that way. WOMAN felt so serious. Up until then, I was still a girl. And a chronic late bloomer at that, so I felt even younger. 25 felt like the first real age. At 25 I felt like more was expected of me in the world. I don’t know if that’s true, but I did feel like I grew up just a little.
26 felt like a pretty lonesome birthday, I remember feeling sadness. But it was beautiful. September 9th in Nashville has always been a beautiful day. It’s always warm, but it feels like fall is coming; such fun anticipation and the sun always catches you so perfectly every September 9th. I share a birthday with a dear friend, Paul Sikes and we took a long walk around Centennial Park in this perfect verge-of-fall weather to celebrate our co-birthdays. Paul is the songwriter that set the bar in my mind. My favorite kind of song is one with minimal lyrics and low verse melodies and a big fat chorus melody. A tidy, concise song, where every word perfectly fits. You can’t imagine how hard that is to accomplish, and I only did once…because I wrote it with Paul. I encourage you to halt reading this and look up Paul Sikes.
26 was the first age that made me wonder if I’d ever settle down or have a family. I had an insouciant feeling around marriage, always imagining it was something far off in the distant future, that it’d happen someday, but was never something that was top of mind. I know that’s unusual, I think a lot of young women feel a strong urge to get engaged, or spend their daydreams envisioning their wedding day. My daydreams solely involved singing on stages. That’s it. This was the first age that I thought “Maybe that won’t work out for me.” I began to envision a life as a successful, single, musician with a baby she made with a sperm donor at the age of 37. I think that would’ve been a FABULOUS life, too. But…
Exactly 6 months after my 26th birthday, the year I thought it wouldn’t happen, I fell in love with Alex and never stopped.
And on my 27th birthday, he planned my very first surprise birthday party ever! Complete with wonderful catering from Whole Foods! And all of my favorite people! And Lucas Leigh playing piano! You haven’t heard piano playing yet if you haven’t heard Lucas. Jack Daniels was being poured into my Dixie cup all night. My 7th and 27th birthdays- the best. I don’t think I felt an ounce of guilt that night or wondered if anyone was there out of obligation…maybe there was, but it was so fun and so special despite my anxiety.
On my 30th birthday, I was singing background vocals in Trace Adkins’ band in an arena when he stopped the show to sing Happy Birthday to me, accompanied by a large crowd singing along.
I was pregnant with Gloria on my 31st birthday. I was pregnant with Helena on my 36th birthday. I don’t remember these days, but I’m sure I indulged in extra cake on accounta the pregnancy.
I’m recovering from COVID-19 on this birthday, and that in itself is pretty memorable. I don’t recommend acquiring COVID-19. I somehow scooted by this entire time without it, and I think it was just waiting here ready to pounce and take me down. Anyway, this is just a little stream of consciousness. Did you know September 9th is the most common of birthdays statistically? A September 9th birthday is so funny because you spend the first few hours messaging all your friends and family with whom you share a birthday. And I have a very nice group of co-birthdays.
A 37 year old with her best girls.
It feels so good to put these thoughts and feelings out into the world. I do not expect that anyone will ever read these, except for my children after I’ve died. I’d love to be able to read my Grandparents’ thoughts like this, and my Grandchildren will. They’ll know me because of this. I always wondered what was the point of all of these journals I have collected my whole life. Why do I feel posterity is so important? WHY did 7-year-old me feel such an urge to report everything, every feeling?
At 37 I finally realized it’s just for my children. That’s it. It’s a small treasure they’ll always get to hold onto. I hope they’ll feel that way. Happy Birthday to this weird person inside me, I hope I’ll get to have a lot more of these.