I have a complex relationship with the idea of birthday celebrations. On one hand, I see the value of celebrating the gift (and mystery) of life and the anniversary of one’s birth. On the other hand, I could reasonably see the uselessness of doing so. Yes, to celebrate the astonishing miracle of my existence, I could inebriate myself beyond human capacity at Newfs, donning a tiara and celebratory pink sash. Or, I just treat myself to a solo dinner date at Franky’s Tacos in Mishawaka: the chimichanga and free chips and salsa could never disappoint me or break my heart.
For some, having a Bilbo Baggins-level birthday celebration works and makes complete sense. For others, spending time privately with a very close circle of friends or even alone might be preferable. I am somewhere in the middle. I understand that my life is a gift, an astonishing miracle that has intrinsic and transcendent significance. I also hate being perceived: crowds, dancing and loud music are not my forte. And when all those crowds, dancing and loud music, are directed at or in celebration of me, I shirk.
My personal opinion is that my birthday should be much less of a celebration of Jonah. Without human connections and relationships, I am nothing and certainly nothing worth celebrating in isolation. If anything, my birthday should be a celebration of 1) the miracle of life and 2) the friendships and relationships that this life has made possible. This 22nd birthday, I am not sad; I will not cry. I do feel slightly washed up and old. But I am particularly thankful for my life and my relationships, which support my life by infusing it with meaning.
It was not by my own merit that I made it these 22 years. It was a team effort. God, in His incomprehensibly divine will, chose me to be born on January 28, 2004. He gave me parents, friends and everything I need to be happy and healthy. He even gave me LinkedIn and Snapchat, in case everyone else forgot it was my birthday.
And so, this birthday, I am changing how I celebrate it. I never had a birthday “party” and don’t desire one. I have no intention of going to the bars or soliciting friends to buy me drinks or shots. I sent out a Google Calendar invitation to about 44 or so friends to come over for a home-cooked dinner. I love cooking for people; it is my way of showing and giving thanks to others. Cooking, in my opinion, is a way of expressing human connection in a way that the English language can’t quite communicate. It’s a hobby, yes, that I enjoy; it helps me focus my mind and improve manual dexterity. But it’s a particularly human activity that sustains life in both a physical and spiritual dimension. Nothing would give me more guilt or embarrassment than for others to spend time planning an extravagant dinner or party for me: I have done nothing to deserve that. What I would prefer is to just give to others and not expect any gifts or pleasantries back in return. That is what my birthday will be about. And that is what I strive for my life to be about, too.
Jonah Tran is a senior at Notre Dame studying finance and classics. He prides himself on sarcasm and never surrendering. You can file complaints to Jonah by email at jtran5@nd.edu.
