Birthday Parties

A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Forum; Music and Lyrics by Stephen Sondheim; Original Broadway Cast

During the summer of 1985, I took on the duties of rehearsal accompanist for the Prairie Repertory Theatre’s fifteenth season on the campus of South Dakota State University. They had chosen “Guys and Dolls” and “A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Forum” as their musical productions that summer.

I hadn’t seen either of these shows before. However, “Guys And Dolls” immediately struck me then, and still strikes me now, as classic, timeless, quintessential Broadway sophistication and refinement.

“Funny Thing”, however, was a Warner Brothers cartoon and a “Laugh-In” episode come to life. I never tired of hearing the clever vaudvillesque script.

Miles Gloriosus: Oh, her bridal bower becomes a burial bier of bitter bereavement.

Pseudolus: Very good. Can you say, “Titus the Taylor told ten tall tales to Titania the titmouse?

Miles Gloriosus: We must build a pyre.

Pseudolus: A pyre?

Miles Gloriosus: Yes, a pyre.

Pseudolus: What kind of pyre?

Miles Gloriosus: A pyre of fire.

Pseudolus: Oh, a fire pyre.

Hero: …and a cup of mare’s sweat.

Pseudolus: Mare’s sweat? Now where am I going to find mare’s sweat on a balmy day like this….

Pseudolus, two minutes later: Would you believe it? There was a mare sweating not two blocks from here.

The entire plot consists of an unstable tower of shenanigans, stacked one on top of the other as they are formulated by the Roman slave Pseudolus. It was very clever. I learned a thing or two about shenanigans.

In June of 2002, Mom called. Hello? “K. just called and announced that she’s coming here in August so that she can turn forty in South Dakota.” Well, that sounds like fun. “Erik, she’s practically begging for a surprise party.” Hmmm, so she is. We both got on the phone immediately to see if the relatives could come to South Dakota to celebrate K.’s birthday. We got a very good response and when K. pulled into the yard, we had a whole herd of us to sing “Happy Birthday”. The party was a triumph.

At Christmas time in 2004, at K.’s house in Missoula, Montana, K. called a meeting while Mom was stuck in a nap. “Mom turn’s seventy five next June. What should we do?” Well, we could have cake after church. “I thought of that. If she found out about it, she would tell us not to do it. So if we want to do something, we have to surprise her. How about if we have a surprise potluck dinner with all of her friends in the neighborhood, and the relatives who can come, some Saturday night in July when we can all be there? Agreed?” “Agreed.” Agreed.

On the day before the potluck, we ran around town gathering tables, chairs, ice, beer and soda (pop). Around five o’clock in the afternoon, the relatives started to arrive. I brought Mom out the front door to greet the relatives and K., D. and my niece M. came around from the back door, carrying a sign that said,

“Happy 75^th Birthday, Mom! Happy 40^th Birthday, Erik!”

Both Mom and I had been duped. Kudos to my sisters.

But what about D.? She would turn forty in 2007. The surprise party gauntlet had been thrown down and she would be suspicious of any invitation to come to Bruce, South Dakota, that summer. So, I called K. I have an idea on how to catch D. off guard for her fortieth birthday. “What’s that?” Let’s do it a year early, like three weeks after her thirty-ninth birthday. “Ooooooooooo. You’re mean.” That’s what big brothers are for. So we decided to celebrate D.’s fortieth birthday and her husband D.’s forty-fifth birthday on their fifteenth wedding anniversary, forty-nine weeks before her real fortieth birthday. Forty, forty-five and fifteen; add ‘em up and it comes to one hundred. We told friends and family that we were celebrating their centennial.

At the end of the evening, my sister D. said, “Well, it’s nice to have that out of the way.” Excellent. Shall we all call a truce? No more surprise birthday parties? “You bet your sweet bippy.” Very good. Say, “Good night, Dick.” Good night, Dick.

Credits: To Mom, on her eightieth birthday. Can you believe that we got you to make potato salad for your own birthday party? We are cunning rascals, aren’t we? We love you.