A birthday party, a birthday cake, a silly game, all seemingly innocuous but, in my life, even the innocuous can have lasting consequences. I went to the birthday party with my high school friend Matt. I think it was my sophomore year. Matt and I had become friends because we had a gym class together and we both hated the concept of group showering. Was it the result of an unfortunate past-life experience in WWII Germany? Who knows? I just hope I was correct in thinking that I didn't smell bad the rest of the day. I think it’s clearly impossible for a teen-aged boy to smell terrible after an hour of gym class and no shower, right?
Anyway, Matt was a practicing Southern Baptist. It didn't really matter to me. It sure does to them though. My family was not really religious at the time. Ostensibly, we were Catholic. I had done my first communion but had never been confirmed. So, it was of no importance to me what his religious practices were. I enjoyed being friends and going to church with Matt and enjoyed his friends from church, many of which also went to my high school.
The aforementioned birthday party was for this girl Amy. Amy was a year or two older than I. Her birthday party was at her house and all the usual church suspects were there. I always felt a little out of place at these events. For good reason, after all, I was the outsider. I was Puerto Rican, which I always felt made them treat me how I imagine the English settlers treated Pocahontas. I was also not baptized the way they thought one should be baptized. They were all waiting for me to convert and "accept Jesus as my Savior". As far as I was concerned, I already had.
I was introduced to a new tradition at this party. I don't think it was a religious thing. Maybe it was more an ethnic tradition or maybe it was just for fun. They had baked a special cake for Amy. The cake was baked with things inside it. Wrapped in wax paper were little coins and trinkets. Getting money was a good thing, obviously. There were other things in the cake as well. One girl got a fake wedding ring wrapped in wax paper. That meant that she was going to get married. Wow, someone’s going out on a limb with that prediction at a Southern Baptist party. You really want to go out on a limb? Try using the words “party” and “Southern Baptist” in the same sentence. There was no date on the ring so the prediction only went so far. This other girl or guy, I can't remember which, got a little plastic baby. Again no date on the baby but, we do know that, considering it was a Southern Baptist party, the conception would have to take place after marriage, or at the very least, after the party. Maybe the wedding ring and baby person would later be forced to marry and have a child. I don't know.
There was one prize that hadn't been found yet. Everyone was excited to see who would find this trinket. I ate my cake hoping to get something, preferably something that symbolized that I would be incredibly wealthy or happy. Maybe I’d get a little tiny plastic blanket with small pox, just like the English settlers gave to some of Pocahontas’ friends. I took another bite of my cake and felt something in it. It was pretty big. “This is going to be good”, I thought to myself. I took the object out of my mouth with great anticipation. I unwrapped the wax paper covered with saliva and cake (How FUN!) and looked inside. It was a thimble. I looked at it with confusion. I told everyone that I had a thimble in my piece of cake. They all started laughing. I laughed along, not quite getting the joke. “It means you're going to be a spinster, an old maid". They all laughed because how is it possible for a man to be an "old maid"?
I’ll tell you how it’s possible. It’s over 20 years later and damned if I’m not an old maid. What kind of weird white, protestant voodoo is this? Everyone I know is married, divorced or partnered up. Hell, most of my friends already have children. Even Amy, whose party it was, is married . . . and to a man of all things. I thought for SURE that Amy was a big old lesbian. She was very athletic, had a boy’s body, dressed in jeans and sports t-shirts and drove a truck. HELLO! Of course, one must take into account that she was a Southern Baptist. She probably was, and still is, a closet case. I hope she is. I have never forgiven her for looking at me one day and saying, “Man, your nostrils are big.” I laughed but what I really wanted to say was, “All the better to smell that you’re a big lesbian, my dear.”
I keep thinking, “What’s wrong with me?” Where’s my John Smith? I’m a good guy. I’m not a model but I’m pretty attractive, even with my big nostrils (Evil big old closeted lesbian). I don’t have Superman’s body but I’m in good shape. I’m smart. I’m funny. I know how to paint with all the colors of the wind. Okay, that’s my last Pocahontas reference.
See what I mean by something seemingly innocuous having a huge impact on your life? It’s that damned thimble. I don’t even know where it is anymore, yet it still haunts me. Well, at least I don’t have to blame myself. There’s nothing I can do. I didn’t accept Jesus as my savior, so the white protestant voodoo thimble curse keeps going strong. I guess I could try to find a white protestant voodoo book and find out what the counter curse is. It’ll probably involve having to get baptized the “right way”, making a casserole and voting Republican. (GULP!) If you’ll please excuse me, I have to go buy a rocking chair, learn how to knit and adopt a bunch of cats.
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