Today, August 4th is my birthday. When I think back on past birthdays, I have many great memories including my surprise 40th birthday, and a birthday reunion we did with my family a couple of years ago.

But one in particular comes to mind, and I'm kind of surprised I'm here to talk about it to this day. I was somewhere between the ages of 10 and 12. And on my birthday, like any other day during the summer, I went outside to play. Where I lived in Carbondale, the Dundaff Street playground was about 12 houses up the street from mine.

I remember riding my bike up there to play with friends. While we were playing, somehow the word got out that it was my birthday. My friends started to ask me why they weren't invited to my birthday party. I was the youngest of seven. Birthday parties in our house usually consisted of the seven kids, my parents, and my aunt that lived across the street, and my aunt and uncle and their kids that lived the next street up from us. So I said my family is having a party that night. To which my friends pretty much invited themselves.

So I went home and asked my mother if I could invite friends over for my party. When she asked me how many, I told her about 10. She said "oh Jimmy, I don't know". Which I knew meet no. And that's when I told her, they were already on their way. She had to run out and get another cake, ice cream, chips, food, and other things for the party. She was so upset with me, I'm sure her blood pressure was through the roof.

I remember many years later, bringing that surprise (to her) party up to my mother. I think she actually forgot about it, and I probably should have kept my mouth shut. I figured it was so many years later that we could all laugh about it when I mentioned it. I was wrong. My mother started going off on me again for inviting all my friends over about 30 years after it happened.

I love and miss both my parents and think about them a lot especially, on their birthdays, and my birthday.

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