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My Dad's senior-group celebrated his eighty fifth birthday recently.
I found myself narrating the story of the celebration in different ways, to different people!
This made me think -- how much do you tell?
What do you leave out? |
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Dear Reader,
Twenty five members of Dad's senior citizen group celebrated his birthday recently. I was an invitee. We started with a big breakfast at a club, and then went to the park nearby for songs, dances, games and the traditional cake-cutting -- complete with a candle for him to blow out. It was a great morning.
There. I've told you the story of the day.
Or have I?
So this is what I tell everyone about his birthday celebration. But to the ones I'm closest to, I narrate the story in greater detail. And I include some bits that may be uncomfortable.
So, here we go again. Let's make it a diary entry this time.
Feb. 5.
Dear Diary.
Oh, this breakfast thing. Now they tell me it would be nice if I could bring the cake. I thought I was just an invitee, but looks like I have to be supplier, too. Anyway, ordered it from M. She's going to make a carrot cake with less sugar and use the healthiest ingredients she can. She'll send it directly to C's home, so that it can still be a surprise for Dad.
Feb. 7. Morning.
Dear Diary,
Why do people meet up over breakfast? Have to get up at some weird hour, to get ready and rush there in time. And it'll be this bunch of old people I can't even relate to. Anyway, gotta go ...
Feb. 7. Evening.
Dear Diary,
What a celebration! Man, do those seniors ever have energy!
Anyway, let's start at the beginning. Turns out the lady organising this is a member of the cricket club, so she could get us permission to breakfast there. We pigged out. Dad and I had idli-vada AND rava dosa on top of that. Dad loved the coconut chutney, he really licked the bowl clean. They gave him handmade birthday cards -- I mean, some of those are really artistic!
For a while I was just eating and kept to myself, but then I got into a conversation about Harry Potter with one of the ladies and the organisers had to hustle us to get up for the group photo and move to the park. I could've just sat there and talked.
Anyway, at the park they sang with gusto, and Dad and I doubled up with laughter. The one leading the singing is a maestro and was going by the exact tune and repeating lines and stuff, the others were belting out. It was the funniest mismatch ever.
Then Dad sang 'Oh they had to carry Harry' -- his drinking song from the UCLA days in the 1950s. They formed a circle and danced to that.
At that point, I was a bit tense. Some street kids had come a bit too close and were playing with Dad's wheelchair -- he had got out of it and was sitting on the parapet in the gazebo. I was worried for our bags, too. I felt guilty about suspecting such cute kids, but unfortunately, that happens to be a reality. Some of these are trained to look cute and flick stuff when nobody's watching. They joined the dancing after a bit and I was relieved, but I think next time there's a celebration at the park, I'll have a sling-bag or a backpack so I don't need to put my handbag down somewhere.
Then the seniors played oranges-and-lemons, and I joined in. There was a lot of cheating, with people slowing down when it was their turn to get 'out'. After that they played 'buzz', you know, where you count numbers in turn and have to say 'buzz' instead of every fifth number. Everyone shouted very loudly and there may have been some cheating there too. I won, finally. (Did I cheat? I'm not sure.) There were packets of chocolates as prizes.
Then things got a bit sentimental because they asked me to talk about Dad and I spoke of how he'd come for every PTA meeting and every show I was in and every prize distribution, at a time when fathers weren't really involved with kids' schooling or upbringing. So when Dad's turn came to speak he was all overwhelmed and opted to sing some more instead.
Then there was the cake-cutting. I had carried some wet-wipes so people decided to just use those, and not open the packet of paper plates I'd carried. That cake was amazing, everyone told me to compliment M. A couple more pics and we called it quits.
What a group this is!
What a lovely day!
So -- this story could have an ultra-short version, like the one I started with, a long-version like the diary entries, or something in between, maybe minus the negatives. Depends on who the audience is and what emotion needs to be evoked.
Thanks for listening!
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Thank you for the response to "Using letters to give information"
I have read some really good stories in the form of correspondence. I never thought about trying it out. It could be interesting. ForeverDreamer 
Hi Sonali, fun newsletter. I love books that incorporate correspondence, and even more so when it's images of handwritten correspondence or actual envelopes on pages where the letter can be removed, read and returned.  Elle - on hiatus 
My novel starts when Matt finds letters in his Uncle's house written by his grandparents. When he sees a letter to his grandmother about her husband death, he looks for something about his grandmother's death and finds nothing. He asks his uncle about her and gets stonewalled. He sets out on a mission to find out what happened to her. You can read what he found in the exciting story of The Vanishing of Katherine Sullivan by Christina Weaver available on Amazon. Quick-Quill 
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Short Stories: February 12, 2020 Issue [#10011]
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