On The Other Hand

By Connie A. Anast

Hello, dear readers! (This is where you say ‘Hi, Connie!)

So much has been happening around us this month, I don't believe I would have time to address everything. From elections to gas prices, campaign to campaign reform, our little corner of the world is inflamed with debate and battle. But I don't want to write about that.

Instead, I want to share with you what I did for my birthday. Corney, yes. But I want to tell you about the best birthday I have ever had.

This year, I turned 28. Young enough to cause a lot of mischief and old enough to know better, or at least post my own bail. And as my partner and I thought about throwing a birthday party, I started to become a little reflective. In my 28 years, I have experienced a lot of what life has to offer and it hasn't been all that swell.

As a child, I lived in a household my mom called "working poor". My father, a copper mine laborer, was a very active member of the Union, and as such, stood strong when it came time for strikes and walk-outs and sick-outs and the like. My mother never had a job in the workforce for one day of her life, but she held our little nest together by budgeting extremely well, hand making clothes, stretching food, volunteering for welfare office work and doing what she had to during those times to insure our family stayed together. Stories around the dinner-table were our movies and garden vegetables were our candy, and I never minded a single moment. My mother would often tell me stories of when she was pregnant and she was worried she would lose me, as she had many miscarriages before I was born, and how special I was to her. My father would tell me of his Air Force days and the friends he lost in Vietnam. I learned more at that table than I ever realized.

Although it was tough, I wouldn't have changed it for the world. My father taught me the value of hard work, pride, and standing up for what is fundamentally right. My mother taught me the value of ingenuity, self worth, and above all, unconditional love..

As I am thinking of all the blessings I have had in my life, even when my life wasn't comfortable, I had a thought. I would do something special for my birthday in honor of my parents who had struggled to make me, struggled to keep me and struggled to raise me.

So, I planned a full-out, no holds barred, dance till your shoes come off Birthday Party Blowout. There was only one condition. No one could bring me presents. Instead, the price of admission would be a brand new, unwrapped baby item, such as baby lotion, or diapers, or a rattle. I also explained that no, I was not having a baby, but they would understand the reasons when they arrived at my home.

The party was FANTASTIC. We had anywhere from 25 - 30 people in my house at any given moment. In fact, there were still 6 people in my hot-tub at 3:00 in the morning! But that's another story. My friends were so creative, they brought baby wipes, blankets, clothes, full diaper bag gift sets (and believe me, those aren't cheap)...I was amazed at the amount of baby items collected at that party and proud of my friends generosity.

The next day, Sunday, was my birthday. My partner and I went through all the baby items and by the time we were done, we had a baby bath FULL of baby gifts, plus 2 large gift bags and the diaper gift set. My plan was almost complete. I spend a little while on the computer, writing a couple notes before we left to complete my birthday wish.

We traveled to the hospital where I was born, ironically where I now work. My partner, my sister and I went to the maternity ward and spoke with the head nurse. I introduced myself and asked her who was born today, September 10, 2000. She smiled and said the hospital just had their first delivery of the day, a little boy named Dennis. I told her that all of these presents were for him.

The staff was stunned. I explained to them that since I have been so blessed in my life, I couldn't possibly ask for more. So, on my birthday, I wanted to celebrate another life coming into this world. And as it sank in, the nursing staff began to get a little giddy. One ran down the hall to grab a camera, another ran down the hall to get Dennis' father. As I soon discovered, little Dennis' mother was still in the delivery room being cleaned up and re-cooperating. He must have been born around the time we entered the hospital.

I set the presents on the nurses desk and made my way to the nursery window and glanced in at the newly born baby. Small and fragile, he was, but I knew that if he had parents like I did, he would grow to be a strong and wonderful human being. I had a chance to meet Dennis' father, who told me that his son was his very first child. Dennis' parents were both immigrants to the United States from Cambodia, but his father spoke English very well. I told him about my birthday present, to give to his son, and he smiled widely and said simply, "Happy Birthday".

I even received more baby items on the Monday after and delivered them to Dennis' mother. Although she didn't speak English, she knew who I was from the picture the nursing staff had given her. I even got to meet Dennis' grandparents, who smiled at me as though I was a guardian angel. I looked over on the night stand, laden with gifts and smiled at the note placed on top, the note I had written. In it were my words of hope for her child and the wishes I had for his gifts and talents, his strength and ambition and his love of life. Dennis' mother's eyes widened as I gave her more gifts and she repeated "Thank you" over and over again.

But, really, the thanks was theirs. In giving on my day, I was even more blessed than I had been before. It was truly the happiest birthday I have ever had.