March is a month of birthdays in our family.
Growing up, my dad did not acknowledge birthdays. When the subject was broached, his answer was, “It’s just another day.”
There were no huge birthday parties growing up. No mountains of gifts, and no grandparents in attendance, but we did get birthday cake, I think.
When I was about to turn six or seven, my mother asked me what I wanted for my birthday.
“My very own prune kuchen,” I said. So, that’s what she made me, instead of a cake. I was in seventh heaven.
Years later, we celebrated my mom’s 80th birthday with an open house in Jamestown. Most of her family was still able to drive and we had a wonderful time. She was grateful in her German-Russian way.
My dad at his 90th birthday party and just for fun, his great uncle Jake at his 105th birthday. He lived to be 107 years old and my dad lived to be 95.
The year my father would be celebrating his 90th birthday, my mother had already passed away. It was a milestone birthday. Dad was still living on his own and driving. My brother and I decided to throw him a party. We scheduled the fellowship hall at Emmanuel Lutheran Church, our home parish in Gackle where they lived for many years. I baked several layer cakes of many flavors for the occasion.
Naturally, Dad protested. I am fairly certain I know why. What if we threw a party and no one came?
I know the feeling.
It’s been a year since my church family, friends, and family planned a medical benefit for me. It happened to be the only available date last year was Saturday, March 30. Guess what? It was my birthday.
Having had Gamma Knife surgery for five brain tumors in January and starting a new targeted chemo medication, I was not feeling too well at the beginning of 2024. At one of my many visits to see new doctors, I complained about not being able to sleep because I had a backache.
In the days leading up to the benefit, it got worse, and I received pain meds, only to find out that once the benefit passed, the backache was gone.
I know why.
I too, was worried that no one would come. Why would anyone spend the Saturday before Easter Sunday at a benefit for me? I was so wrong.
I managed to attend the event despite feeling fatigue and nausea from my new medication. And, like my father who had the best birthday in his whole life, I too had a wonderful day.
My only regret was not being able to greet everyone personally. The number of people that showed up was overwhelming to say the least.
Here I am, one year later ready to celebrate a birthday I never thought I would after my cancer diagnosis. Remembering last year’s birthday brings tears to my eyes. I don’t remember having a piece of the cake, but that’s okay.
The cards, the well-wishes, the donations — all I can say is I never expected the enormous outpouring of love and concern, ever.
I am so grateful for all the work the committee did to plan the event. I am grateful to the manager and staff at the Eagles in Mandan for donating the venue, food and a staff person to supervise the kitchen. I am eternally grateful for all the friends who disobeyed the no hug rule and came to greet me like I was the queen.
It was like the final scene in the movie, “It’s a Wonderful Life,” and the quote, “Remember, no man is a failure who has friends.”
This year’s birthday will be much quieter. I will spend part of the day with my church family where I feel loved for who I am, just as I am, not to mention the daily prayer support that will give me hope for another birthday.
Next year, it’s going to be a big one.
INDYchildrendotme 
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