
By Carrie Classon
“Not My Cake”
My father and my niece have a wonderful tradition.
Born just 69 years and one week apart, they have celebrated their birthdays together for as long as my niece has had a birthday. Last night, we all went out to eat and then went to my sister’s house to open presents and have birthday cake. I live just a few blocks from a wonderful Italian bakery. They make the best chocolate cake ever, so I offered to bring the cake.
Last year, my father turned 90 and my niece turned 21, and so I bought a single candle that said “21” on it and put in nine candles, and they blew them out together. But this year, with my father turning 91 and my niece 22, I could think of no simple means of representing these ages in candles—without burning my sister’s house down.
I thought, as long as the bakery was writing “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” on the cake, they could just as easily write “HAPPY BIRTHDAYS!” followed by “22 & 91.” Then I could put a single candle by each age and simplify the whole complicated (but mandatory) candle-blowing-out procedure.
To read Carrie’s entire column, subscribe to the Messenger.