Birthday Boy

My husband, Kory, turned 70 last Sunday.  It’s a daunting number from where I sit, years away from even turning 60.

At any age, each day is such a gift, but I felt it was worth celebrating the fact Kory’s now lived more than 25,550 of them.  So I threw a party – a real Norwegian formal birthday party. I violated a few basic rules, however, with the biggest one being the number of guests in attendance.  Norwegians would only have about 20-30, and our Americanism showed through with nearly 150 showing up.  I had to rent Maple Hall just to have space for them all.

I made appetizers that were in line with what Norwegians eat when they invite folks over for coffee.  Open faced sandwiches with imported goat cheese, or white cheese with red peppers or cucumbers on top.  I made just one platter of sliced eggs topped with caviar, thinking no one would be brave enough to try such a thing, yet that was the first platter to be emptied.  There were a few more Norwegians in attendance than I expected.  Of course there was also pickled herring and dried fish, but I had to set the bowl of dried fish outside the entrance because it was stinking up the place.  I was hoping the seagulls would discover it before I had to pack up any leftovers.

Dinner was a catered affair and far from the fat free vegan food Kory’s been eating for the last two years due to his heart disease.  For his birthday he broke all the rules and fully enjoyed the food in front of him.  I jokingly told him if the fat in the food killed him, at least he had one last visit with all his friends before he went.

I notified everyone that the Norwegian birthday tradition is that people write speeches, often in poetic form, or re-write the words to familiar songs, to sing to the birthday boy.  A good portion of the party time was listening to these speeches and singing along with the songs, which added a great deal to the merriment of the day.

The dessert table was a big hit as Norwegian custom dictates everyone brings a cake so the tables were lined up from one end of the hall to the other and there still wasn’t room for everything. 

The bulk of the people in attendance were from the church crowd Kory hung with in the 1960s.  It’s incredible that so many people maintained these friendships their entire lives.  To refer to them as “old” friends is no joke.  A few didn’t attend because they forgot which day it was or they were in too poor of health. At least my man is still standing. 

Kory was bragging that his fat free vegan diet is supposed to help him live longer, but someone told him it really doesn’t – it just makes it seem like it.  Either way, it was one out of 25,550 days he’ll never forget.  At least, I sure hope he doesn’t.