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By Mike McNair
They’re only six and five, but they’ve been best friends forever. It’s only fitting they celebrate their birthdays together on June 14.
They may be only six and five, but they planned their birthday party from beginning to end all by themselves. They decided they wanted to have a picnic in a friend’s woods and invite a whole bunch of other friends their age to share in the celebration. That evening they’ll all eat at a nearby restaurant and maybe even blow out candles on a cake. Then they’ll all return to the friend’s house and gather around a bonfire to sing, tell stories, and laugh until they can no longer force their eyelids to stay open.
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Happy birthday, everyone!
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They’re only six and five, so of course, someone’s going get hurt at that birthday party; you mark my words. Maybe one of them will trip over a log while frolicking in the woods, or choke on food while talking a mile-a-minute at the restaurant, or burn a body part or two on the bonfire’s flame while roasting marshmallows. It’s not so much a question of if it will happen, but of when, how often, and how bad. In spite of that, I’m sure they’ll have fun and say that celebrating their birthdays together made it all worthwhile.
They may be only six and five, but at six decades and five years of age, members of my Fort Branch (Indiana) High School Class of 1961 have decided to celebrate everyone’s sixty-fifth birthday together by picnicking in a classmate’s woods, eating at a restaurant, and laughing around a bonfire. Such gatherings are not isolated events for the members of this class that was fifty-seven strong at graduation forty-seven years ago.
In the past few years they’ve gathered at a classmate’s Smoky Mountain cabin in Tennessee and at another classmate’s Alabama home. And on June 14 they’ll celebrate Medicare’s arrival together back home again in Indiana.
As I write this in early April, I’m aware that circumstances will probably prevent me from making the thousand mile round trip “back home” to join in the celebration. I’m reminded of the World War II song where the soldier realizes he’s probably not going to make it home for Christmas, but he tells his family he will be there . . . if only in his dreams.
In much the same way that soldier will be home for Christmas, I will be at the Fort Branch High School Class of 1961’s birthday party. I’ll be there . . . if only in my thoughts. Although five hundred miles away, on the day of the celebration I’ll feel my classmates’ closeness in the warm summer breeze and hear their laughter in the trees. I’ll will my spirit to be with them in the form of the bonfire’s translucent smoke that dances briefly before drifting skyward and disappearing into the night’s still darkness. I know this can happen because there’s magic in being only six and five.
I’d like to wish a happy sixty-fifth birthday, not only to my classmates, but to all those who graduated in 1961 from high schools everywhere. With the knowledge you’ve acquired over the years, there’s no way of knowing what grand things you are yet destined to accomplish. They may outshine all your other triumphs. It could happen, you know. Anything is possible when you’re only six and five.
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