The broken old man was’nt very fond of birthdays. As a kid, birthdays were more tolerated than celebrated. There were no cakes, no songs telling him he looked like a monkey…and smelled like one too; if he was lucky he got punched in the arm for each year of his inconvenient existence. Good times.
The birthdays he suffers in his adult life are a little different, those of his wife and children are celebrated with cake and presents; his with maybe a humorously insulting card making light of his advanced age or some performance issue.
Birthdays…a prudent choice?…or an over-hyped day of unnecessary celebration?