BIRTHDAYS

Back in 2003, when my dad was about to turn 86, he kept warning us not to plan a party. His own father had died at age 85—just one day before his 86th birthday. So using male logic, my father had it in his head that he, too, would pass away before he turned 86.

“Don’t plan a birthday party!” he kept insisting back in 2003. “I won’t be here.”

In the recent weeks leading up to April 25, 2010, my father kept saying, “Don’t plan a birthday party. I won’t be here.”

“Where are you going?” I would ask him, being a smart-mouthed daughter. “Are you taking the senior bus to the mall?”

He would give me “that look” that fathers can give their daughters to let them know they’re skating on mighty thin ice. Mighty thin.

So on Sunday, we celebrated the 93rd birthday that my father insisted he wasn’t going to have. He must have decided to bypass the mall trip and showed up at the party instead.

So much for male logic. What he chooses to forget is that his mother lived to the age of 101.

So what’s the lesson in all of this? It’s like the old saying, "If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans."

Happy 93rd Birthday, Dad!