Happy Birthday Thumper – Part I

Note: Please read the prior entry Ref No: J25 before reading this entry.

Birthdays are our one true personal tradition. They represent many things, from the unadulterated fun and messy goodness of our very first cake, to our sixteenth year and all it represents of growing up and finally, our 21st – the springboard of the rest of our life. I know I must have had birthday cakes when I was growing up, but for the life of me I can’t remember one. My mother was very pragmatic and a birthday gift was more apt to be a much needed pair of shoes than some bangle or toy. I suppose it’s because of the complete lack of frivolousness surrounding the occasions that I cannot recall even one birthday during my childhood.

The only party I ever had was on my 21st birthday and it was a surprise – a big one! It was a happy time of life for me. I was living in Alaska, had a good job and was dating a handsome Army pilot from a wealthy old Virginia family. He was stationed at Fort Richardson Army base and I worked on the adjacent Elmendorf AFB in Anchorage.

I met M through mutual friends. I can’t really recall the first time we spoke, though I know we had been at several of the same social events. The guy I was dating happened to be Greek and at a party one night, M leaned over to me and said “You know Greeks’ toes are backwards don’t you?”. I jerked my head around to meet his eyes and with eyebrows arched asked him incredulously “What do you MEAN?” He laughingly told me that Greeks’ feet are backwards from ours, with their big toes being on the outside of the foot and the little toe on the inside. I attribute my ambiguousness as to the truth of his statement to the fact I was young and naïve and, more to the point, had not seen my dae without shoes.

After that evening, I became aware of M whenever we came together in a group situation at a party, out to dinner , or just watching a ballgame on a Sunday afternoon. I loved his wit and sense of style. He was very relaxed with himself, with no need to be macho or show his bravado as did so many of the guys. He’s the only person I’ve ever known who actually said “A penny for your thoughts” to me. Coming from him, it sounded original and I felt compelled to tell him what I was thinking. He was a born leader and a favorite of the particular crowd we both belonged to.

Somewhere along the way, the Greek guy dropped out of the picture and it was just M. I thought everything about him was perfect, from his shiny black Porsche to his apartment, which was all soft music and dim lights with a parachute suspended from his ceiling, held in the center and draping down and back up to the four corners of the room. Soft lighting behind it gave the illusion of a billowing gray/blue cloud cover (this description loses something in the telling). To my young self, he epitomized class and sophistication. He often would cook for me and he taught me to appreciate good wine. When we went out to dinner, he would order for me, introducing me to French food, finger bowls and my first martini. He called me Thumper and made me feel more loved than I had ever felt in my life.

JM was from Virginia and a long line of southern aristocrats. He owned a beach club in Panama City together with an old friend from college. A very close relationship existed between he and his family and he had a younger sister whom he adored and who had been engaged to marry Herman of Herman’s Hermits. I think his family intervened.

At the time I knew him, JM flew a reconnaissance plane and was sometimes gone overnight on missions. On the Friday morning of my 21st birthday he called to say he was going to Fairbanks and would be gone two days. I was very disappointed, not only because I wouldn’t see him over the week-end, but because it was my birthday and I was looking forward to spending it with him. It was only after we hung up that I realized he hadn’t mentioned my birthday.

Not having known M would be gone, I hadn’t made plans for the week-end. My best friend Donna had already made plans with her husband. When I arrived home that evening feeling a bit sorry for myself, my roommate Joan who was dressed fit to kill stated she and Bill were going to the Officers Club for drinks and then to a new restaurant for dinner. They invited me to go along, but I decided to spend a quiet evening alone.