Happy birthday to me - a night of hope

Recent events have sort of eclipsed this night in my mind (see above), but I didn't want this thought to get completely lost in events that have since transpired because, well, you'll see.
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Last Thursday was my birthday. Those of you who know me well know that I am a fan of my birthday. When I was 13 and a recipient of the "friendship basket" along with it's "spotlight minute" at church, I told them my birthday was my "favorite holiday." Forget the fact that me and mine are the only ones who celebrate this day. I like it better than Christmas. Is that sacriligious? Anyway, it's true, and I haven't outgrown it in the (many) intervening years.

My birthday this year, as always, was a Mary Poppins kind of wonderful - practically perfect in every way. For no specific reason that I can elucidate, I enjoyed a day of ephemeral sense of satisfaction with my own self, my own life, my own skin. I was happy. I was not afraid. I felt very zen. Five and a half months after the Lehman bankruptcy (and counting), zen is pretty rare around our house these days.

I took a break from bad news. I refused to discuss the markets, changing tax policy, bank takeovers, or anything gloomy. "You can't live in a bubble," John said.* "You can choose to ignore the bad and focus on the good, sometimes. On what's really important, anyway," I said.

The culmination, the pinnacle of my "special day" was dinner at Gramercy Tavern, which I love. Definitely my favorite restaurant in New York, but the food and service were not why it made my day. No, I think it was something like this:

Gramercy Tavern was busy last night. It's restaurant week, in which their Tavern Room participates, and the reservations-only main dining room was full as well. As we walked in, the hostess asked whether we were "celebrating something special." I thought, it is probably true that most people who dine there, apart from regulars she recognizes, are celebrating something, especially now, since the restaurant is at the pricier end of the spectrum.

An hour or so later, I was walking to the bathroom when I heard a fellow diner exclaim, "Recession? What recession? Look at this place! It's packed!" I think he meant to poke fun at all of us, sitting here eating expensive food when we could be out of jobs tomorrow, but it made me think. For the first time in so long, I was surrounded by celebration. By happiness. By people commemorating a special occasion instead of bemoaning the collapse of our society/economy/etc. By people taking a break from everything that is wrong right now and just enjoying some chocolate bread pudding together.

For months now, I've been surrounded by various levels of despair, fear, and even downright hopelessness. Sometimes I can feel the city shriveling, dying around me. A ghost of New York future, I think, when I feel particularly down; and who doesn't feel down in the depths of a never-above-freezing New York January? I'm scared.

But for one night, I didn't feel that way. It was a sort of perfect New York gift. Perfect is hard to come by these days.

Thank you. To Laurel, who baby entertained basically all day so I could enjoy Evelyn while avoiding any sort of actual responsibility for her. To John, who took me to lunch AND to dinner. And to New York. For helping me remember, for one night, how to leave tomorrow's troubles to tomorrow and enjoy myself for a few hours. I needed that this year.
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*In his defense, he actually said this the day after my birthday, but I decided to celebrate for two days this year. Especially since my cake and ice cream and party were the day after my actual birthday.