My Birthday

Despite what I said about birthdays in my last post, and the fact that I would have been perfectly content to stay home watching The Vampire Diaries and eating Kraft Mac and Cheese, my brother managed to make my seventeenth birthday a pleasant surprise. Not with gifts, but with something better.

Mom had already baked a second birthday cake for me, not knowing we would be in Iowa City with Miles to eat it. The first cake she baked was on the wrong day, when Claire sneaked home to surprise me almost a week early, knowing she'd be unable to get away from classes at Iowa State on the right day. We went out to dinner that night and had a lot of fun. When December 6 came around, my birthday seemed to have come and gone already. I was on the sofa thinking about Mac and Cheese when Miles called me to say Happy Birthday--and to invite us to a live jazz concert at the Englert in Iowa City. Mom said, "It's too late. It's a school night!" I told her I had already promised Miles that I would come even if it meant being out past midnight on a school night, even though I still had to shower, even though I still hadn't finished my homework. Dad backed me up in this last minute decision to go see Miles's friends playing their original compositions. It was totally spur-of-the-moment. Miles had called, and within fifteen minutes, we were on the road, rushing to beat the clock and get there before the concert began. Mom said, "I forgot my cell phone." Dad said, "Too bad," even though we had only just backed out of the garage. Then, "The gas tank is empty," he said. "We have to stop for gas." He put in a few gallons on the way, late as we were. He didn't lecture me about driving around with an almost-empty tank. Birthdays have their perks.

We got lucky. How often does anyone find a parking spot in Iowa City at the Ped Mall, much less a spot within sight of our destination, the Englert? I was excited to see the marquee, the wet bricks of the streets, people on sidewalks and a feeling in the air of things happening. I especially looked forward to seeing my brother, on the actual day of my birthday, rather than some random day on the calendar that Mom might say was close enough to count--not that I minded seeing Claire a week early (better early than never!), and not that I had really expected to celebrate my birthday on a school night, and with live music, at that.

I walked on air all the way to the theater, eager to see my brother. Funny, we were on time in spite of living forty miles away and stopping for gas, but Miles was not. Of course. Typical, unorganized Miles. Dad texted him. No reply. We kept searching for him as we were taking our seats, just before the show was about to start, but he still was nowhere to be seen. Go figure.

The first song began with a jazz flute solo. I play flute, and Miles always urges me to try "Yozz Flute" (a line from some movie), so I especially enjoyed hearing this solo. Miles's classmate from high school, Michael Jarvey, looked very musician-like at the keyboard, tall, slender, long-haired and brooding. The other guys could have passed for Rockwell engineers, but they played great jazz, and wrote it themselves. After seeing the band play two songs, my dad FINALLY got a text message from my brother. Where was he? Of all the nights for Mom to leave her cell phone behind--Miles had texted her, of course, telling us to hurry to a cafe called Teaspoons instead. He playing a sudden gig there with a well-known trumpeter from Juilliard. Later, we learned he was just walking by the place on his way to the Englert when he looked through the window and saw Gabe Medd, the famed trumpet player. Miles had played a gig with him once before when Gabe was in town. Of course he had to rush in, and Gabe just invited him to jump in and do improv on the upright bass, and of course Miles wouldn't say no, even if was on his way to meet his sister on her birthday.

We didn't know all that yet. We only knew we had to suffer the embarrassment of walking out on the Englert concert the moment one song ended and before the next one began. I felt so rude for walking out because they were such fantastic musicians and they were my brother's friends, but we had to head over to the cafe where my brother was playing.

When we got there the place was packed with so many people there was nowhere to sit, let alone stand. But I was happy to see my brother and hear him play. I didn't recognize any of the songs. After the last song of the night, Gabe Medd lowered his trumpet and said "Happy Birthday to Mariel, the sister of our fine upright bass player." What? I blinked, looked at Miles, who smiled, and at Gabe, who had just played Happy Birthday on his jazz trumpet, and I did not even realize that was what they were playing until after they were done? My sneaky brother got a brilliant trumpet player to dedicate "Happy Birthday" to me, and because it sounded so jazzy and different from the actual song, I missed it! That wasn't what upset me about this night, though.

What really upset me was that even though so many people had crowded into this cozy little cafe to watch these extremely talented Juilliard musicians on a cold winter's night, I was the only one to put money in the tip jar. How sad and disappointing.

After watching Miles play, we went to eat dinner at the Sheraton hotel where my brother works as a bell hop. Although it was after nine o'clock at night, I still ordered a huge cheeseburger with fries and a Shirley Temple. The food was delicious. Miles splurged and ordered a $23 capon, even though it was still expensive his 25-percent employee discount. I had a great time celebrating my birthday with my family. After finishing our meals, we went to my brother's apartment to celebrate with the second cake that my mom had made earlier that day. Miles' roommates were also there to sing Happy Birthday and eat cake with us.

When we left Iowa City, it was really late. I still had to shower and get ready for bed. By the time I actually got done with all these things and jumped into bed, my seventeenth birthday was officially over. It was probably after 2 a.m. on a school night. But that did not matter. I had a great time. I had told Miles I would go see him even if I didn't get to bed until 2 a.m. -- and that is exactly what happened. But if being able to spend time with my brother meant losing a few hours of sleep, who cared. It was worth it. Even if I never did finish my homework that night. (Shh, don't tell my mom.)

Next time he gets a famous musician to play Happy Birthday for me, though, I hope I recognize the tune.