Sept. 4: Birthday cake

 My niece, Sasha, was born on her parents fifth anniversary. I can't tell you for sure but I wonder if - when she was younger - she felt guilty that her arrival on planet Earth negated another celebration. 

A friend of mine was born on Christmas Day. He used to insist his birthday be celebrated on Boxing Day; he didn't feel worthy to share the same birthday as the Lord.*

I have no idea what happened to that old friend of mine and - now that I think about it - I have no idea how my niece and her parents made those two anniversaries co-exist. My niece is 20 now, old enough to know that you don't actually have to celebrate something on the actual day. By the time you've reached the two-century mark, you've celebrated enough holidays early and late to fill up an entire month.

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Like my brother and my late best friend and my daughter, I was born in early January. This meant that early winter was a stressful time in our household. No sooner had my parents dealt with the hustle and bustle of Christmas and New Year's that they had to plan for two birthday parties. Thank God they had a month's leeway before my sister's birthday. 

And yes, there was cake.

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Somewhere in there, I confessed that I'd like to try Baked Alaska, which is a cake topped with ice cream and caramelized meringue.  I didn't care for it but my mom had gone to a lot of trouble to prepare it, so I didn't say anything. As such, she assumed that Baked Alaska was my favourite dessert and she made me one every year for my birthday. I think the tradition carried on about five years before I finally fessed up.

The cake I remember most was on my 10th birthday. It was 1983 and, like most adolescents of the day, I thought video arcades were the best things ever. Pac-Man was my favourite so mom made me a Pac-Man cake, which was probably the easiest cake in the world. All she had to do was bake a cake, cut out a big slice, and top it with yellow icing.

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I celebrated my 50th birthday by doing a charity magic show somewhere in Alexandria, Ontario. As I mentioned before, I am an early January baby and that means that it is usually cold on my birthday. I am grateful to the brave souls who trudged out on that icy night to watch me make things disappear. I wanted to treat my audience, so I ordered a massive chocolate cake from the grocery store, which we shared after the show (and yes, they sang Happy Birthday.) But that cake was huge - way too big for everyone to eat in one sitting - and most of it wound up going back to my former office, where I endeavoured to share it with my colleagues.

Ash celebrated a milestone birthday last month, my lady is now four decades old - can you believe it? Why she puts up with a tired old man like me will forever remain a mystery. And yes, she got a birthday cake too. A big slab - vanilla though because she eschews chocolate - and it was well enjoyed by those fortunate enough to attend her party.

When my brother was a child, he had a stuffed panda bear that he brought everywhere. He loved that bear so much that he ascribed it its own backstory - including a birthday. I guess he was having a bad time once because he convinced our mother to bake a birthday cake for the stuffed animal. In typical big brother fashion, I thought it was stupid and I complained about it and my mother told me to shut up.**

And so there was a panda motif cake and candles were inserted in it and then lit and then everyone sang happy birthday to Panda and I cannot remember if I joined in but I do remember eating a piece of that cake, which, of course, symbolically means that I approved of the celebration.

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As I write this, I am suddenly ashamed that I have never attended one of my niece's birthday parties.*** This embarrasses me since she is my goddaughter and the person who gave me the title for today's note. The closest I came was doing a month-late gift-giving in 2008, when she turned four. I include an image of that occasion below.

I have no idea what kind of cake she enjoyed then, or at any of her birthdays, though I understand that she has a fondness for cheesecake. Perhaps she will let me treat her when I see her next.

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*Yes, yes, I know that there's no historic evidence that Jesus of Nazareth was born on December 25. Yes, I know that the early church co-opted a Pagan celebration. Blah blah blah. You're so smart, Mr, Critic.

**Her exact words.

***In my defence, we live on opposite sides of the country.