The Sunday Memory Drawer - Birthday Parties

The picture says it all.
This was a celebration of one of my single digit birthdays. The other day, I enjoyed the recognition of friends for my most recent double digit birthday.
I was asked by several folks why I did not write about it in this forum on the very day. I had considered it for a moment and thought it would be a gross display of self-involvement. On the other hand, I'm writing about it today. And when the hell was this blog not all about me? So, the look in the above photo when I am perhaps five or six years old and the look I have now are one in the same. Both have me asking the identical question.
What the fuck am I doing here?
I can't always explain the present day Len, but I certainly remember little Len and those horrific birthday parties.
Like clockwork every February, one of these dreadful afternoons would be scheduled on the weekend closest to my birthday. Now, of course, you would think that a kid's birthday party would be a welcome event. Surrounded by my fellow schoolmates. Or my friends from the neighborhood.
Nah, that would be too easy. Instead, the guest list for these blowouts was populated with relatives and little kids who were the children of my mother's friends. The tykes you were forced to play with maybe once or twice a year while your respective mothers were dragging on cigarettes and gossiping over coffee in the kitchen.
Wow, fun for me. I had the only birthday parties that required the kids to wear name tags so I could know who everybody was.
To make an open wound ooze even more, my gaggle of cousins was also summoned for the celebration. Not that I had an issue with them. But, frankly, they were all several years older than me and probably resented the fact that they got dragged into these debacles. None of them ever seemed to want to be there and would have preferred to drink a smoothie made with Drano. I look at the photos of my cousins at these gatherings and I see anger coming out of every skin pore. Actually, I couldn't blame them. I didn't want to be there either.
I had no clue at the time but these parties provided the backdrop for a little competition between my mother and her alleged friends. Who could throw the best event? Who had the best cake? Who offered the best prizes for the required games that the kids would be forced to play?
My mother regularly topped all comers with the latter. She'd go out and buy some really nifty shit to award all the winners. Even better than the stuff I was getting and I was the one who should have scoring the best loot. Hell, it was my birthday!
One year, one of the prizes was a Colorforms play set. Popeye the Sailor. Back when, I LOVED Colorforms. Those toys could keep me occupied for hours. And I was a Popeye-a-holic. I could savor that new toy plastic smell already.
Except this was going to the winner of the "Pin The Tail on the Donkey" contest. Some six-year-old nobody that I probably couldn't stand. Destined to go home with something I really, really wanted.
I had no other choice. I needed to cheat.
Mom was naive enough to actually let me have a turn at the jackass on the wall. As the blindfold was slipped around my head, I managed to let it slide down a nano-bit so I could still see what was ahead of me. I got spun around and all that did was make me momentarily dizzy. I could still discern every minute feature of the donkey that was positioned in front of me.
In retrospect, I probably should have made the whole pinning look a little bit more random. I should have gotten it close to the ass, but off the mark enough to look semi-legit. But, I was six and not as crafty as I am today.
I precisely pinned the tail on the donkey. The work of an expert marksman. The entire room gasped.
I could hear my mother recoil in utter humiliation.
"How did he do that?!!!"
It was easy. Give me the friggin' Colorforms.
"Don't you want to let little Susan or Nancy have it? They got close, too."
Are you kidding me, lady? Give me the friggin' Colorforms.
"Those prizes are for the other guests."
Rules are rules. Give me the friggin' Colorforms.
I got the friggin' Colorforms. A day later, as I put Popeye, Bluto, and Olive Oyl through their sticky vinyl paces, something didn't feel right.
But the moment quickly passed. I loved those Colorforms!
There weren't many more birthday parties after that. And, two years later, I would get the birthday present of all time.
My dog Tuffy arrived.
To be continued.
Dinner last night: Garlic chicken and honey walnut shrimp at Panda Inn.