Fifty years ago all I wanted for my birthday was a brand new, bright blue Schwinn bicycle with thin tires. I was the youngest of three children and, as was often the case in fifties families, I got a lot of hand-me-downs. One of those was my older brother's beat-up red bicycle. It was rusty, it didn't have cool ribbons that would flutter in the breeze, it had old-fashioned fat tires and it was a boy's bike! I wanted my own, gleaming speed demon to terrorize the neighborhood with!I could picture it in my mind - complete with horn, shiny ribbons draping from the handles and a basket on the front for all my most special possessions. I was already hording a deck of cards and some spring loaded clothes pins so the bike would make that cool sound as I pedaled the mean streets of Kansas!
As my birthday grew closer, and my spying had been unsuccessful in revealing any hint of a new bike, I began to worry that my new ride was not going to be forthcoming. Sadly, I was right - I did not get my new bike for my birthday. We were not "made of money" as my mother would say. "You have a perfectly good bicycle to ride. You need new school clothes more." And so on my 7th birthday, half a century ago this Monday, I spent my birthday unhappily wearing new clothes and riding an old bike to school.
I have learned a lot in those fifty years, half a century can bring a certain amount of wisdom. I have learned to live with disappointments. I have learned it is not easy to survive in this world, let alone have all the luxuries one desires. And I have learned that my mother was right about many things. Mom, if you're listening from beyond the vale, I'm sorry I was such a brat about that bike. I'm sorry I ruined your enjoyment of the gifts you gave me. I wish I could have one more birthday with you so I could tell you how much I love you and appreciate all you did for me. Oh, and one more thing, because of all you taught me I am able to buy my own bikes and stuff now.
