Sweet sixteen

I had two birthday parties growing up. One when I was eight, attended by Momma, Big Daddy, Big Momma, and my cousin, Donnie, and Aunt Cile and probably Gail. Of course, Tippy, Big Momma’s lap dog was at everything. The setting was outside in front of Biggie’s house, with a card table covered with a red and white checkered tablecloth. I’m sure there must have been some neighborhood friends there, but I have no recollection of their names.

I do remember how special it was to have a cake and all the attention that was directed at me that day. Biggie must have made my cake since my mom went into a state of hysteria when she had to bake anything other than “cat head biscuits,” and she didn’t even make them very well. But there definitely was cake. Maybe ice cream. I can’t remember any presents, but I’m sure Momma made sure that I had at least one present. She always managed to do that, no matter what. I’ve said before, even though we were poor, I didn’t know it.

My other birthday party was on my 16th birthday. Now we’re talking birthday parties! In my day, a birthday party on your 16th birthday was an occasion like no other in my hometown, unless it was a funeral or wedding. It meant weeks of preparation. Invitations had to be printed or engraved, depending on how “poor” you were, reserving the Community House, making your invitation list, again depending on how “poor” you were because you had to feed them. In our case, somebody had to borrow tablecloths, punch bowl and cups, appropriate utensils for the food, buy candles, order the birthday cake from Bazemores, make punch, arrange for the music, and chaperones. Yep, we had chaperones. They were usually friends or relatives of the parents. Rowdy teenagers weren’t tolerated, but nobody I knew was rowdy anyway, so the chaperones weren’t really needed. Nevertheless, they were always there. Just in case. Girls dressed in frilly dresses with crinoline skirts and boys dressed nicely. Some even wore bow ties. Sunday school kind of clothes.

Dance cards for the girls were a definite must, so somebody had to get busy and make up those little folding cards, cut out with pinking shears from colored construction paper. They were made to look pretty with a ribbon attached to go around the wrist. It was numbered 1, 2, 3, etc. inside with a line drawn beside the number for your dance partner. The guys would scramble to sign their name on the cards of the most popular girls. I never saw many guys scrambling to get to my card at any party, including my own. The fact that I had a serious boyfriend may have had a bearing on that, but then again, I wasn’t the brightest bulb on the tree. But I’d get a few signatures on my card, just to be nice.

‘);

Back to my party. The Community House was decorated with crepe paper streamers, probably a 45 RPM record player with all the top hits of the 50’s and the wooden floor was gleaming and waxed to perfection. The beautiful two-tiered birthday cake sat in the middle of the long table with the perfect punch of the day, – lime sherbet and ginger ale – in a beautiful, borrowed crystal bowl with cups all lined up beside it. Petit fours, cookies, chicken salad, cream cheese with pineapple sandwiches were piled high on the borrowed silver trays. Nuts and little green and pink mints were in borrowed compotes. It was something to behold! Momma had worked herself into a frenzy, but she had “done good.” I was spit polished and all dressed up in a new dress for the occasion. Looking good.

When the magic hour arrived, I was petrified that no one would show up. My stomach got tied up in knots, I was sweating like a hog, and I followed Momma’s lead and went into my own frenzy as the time approached and the long-awaited event was ready to begin. I’m sure we had asked for RSVPs, but you never know….Typical me – and Momma. I walked the floor, afraid that my party was going to be a big fat flop.

Just about then, some cars arrived and out hopped girls, boys, and Momma’s, who probably wanted to see how pretty everything looked. I was saved! Soon, the place was swarming with teenagers and the boys scrambled for the girl’s dance cards. Yes! I was an instant, gleaming “birthday girl!” The night was danced away, cake and petit fours and sandwiches were eaten with a cup of green punch, presents were opened, and it was over.

My own ladder to success had been completed. My dance card wasn’t filled, but everybody had a good time, and the coveted milestone of the 16th birthday party was over. Momma, Daddy, and all the chaperones cleaned up, washed cups, punch bowls, and trays and we turned out the lights on one of the best days of my life. Life was good. I think we made the social pages in the Forest Blade! Comments can be made to LaRose at [email protected].