Birthdays in the South

I had missed Richard Prause's birthday the past four years in a row. Time after time, a conflict, cold, or something else had come up and caused me to decline the sweet invitation from his wife, Amy. Each year it was disappointing not only because I wanted to celebrate with my friends, but because Richard's invitations always sounded like so much fun. They are what comes to mind when I think of one of the blueprints for southern birthdays. I was determined. I wasn't going to miss it this year. So, despite the fact that my back was bothering me that morning, I got in the car and headed to the Prause house in Awendaw.

It was a brilliant day, and I found just what I'd expect to see arriving at an old family home in the Lowcountry for a birthday. The guys were down on the dock shooting skeet, the girls were sitting on the porch sipping drinks, and the birthday boy's mom was inside with his wife producing an amazing looking spread. I set down my bag, said hello to the hostesses, and almost immediately headed across the back lawn and down the long dock toward the flying clays. I could sip drinks later, I thought. I knew that when they lost the light however, the boys would have to stop shooting.

I watched for a bit and said hello to some friends I hadn't seen in a while, including the birthday boy. Eventually a few of the guys turned and asked if I wanted to shoot. They were running out of shells for "the small gun". I shot twice with it and then handed it off to the other girl on the dock so she could give it a try. When the shells ran out, my friend, James, produced a new gun for me to shoot with.

"It's an antique," he said as he showed me the original engravings on the side of the gun and gave me a quick tutorial. It felt a little like he had handed me a small anvil. "I'm guessing your grandfather was a little bigger than me," I jested as my arm sank with the weight of the gun. I sensed James thought that shouldn't matter. I raised the gun hoping I wouldn't embarrass myself terribly, and thankfully broke more than I missed that afternoon. I quit while I was ahead and continued to watch the guys shoot as the sun eventually dipped behind the marsh reeds and the no-see-ums gave notice that they were taking over the dock.

When the sky fell dark, we rotated through food groups like champs. Chips and salsa, artichoke dip, fresh veggies, and hot dogs roasted over the fire all met their end. I stood at a make-shift wooden table in the back yard as the Lowcountry favorite, roasted oysters, were also devoured. In between munching, I caught up with old friends and introduced myself to some new ones. And then it was time to light things on fire (well, more than just hotdogs).

A surplus of fireworks laid ready to be dispatched on the porch, and, one by one, the kids, and then the adults began to set them off. Richard gave one last call for roasting hotdogs on the fire, because the time had come to throw the dried up Christmas trees on and set them ablaze. Don't worry. We only caught one tree in the yard on fire...and it put itself out fairly quickly. It was like jubilant chaos... The fire was roaring, music was playing, and the family dogs were happily barking at the fireworks launching into the sky. People were talking and laughing. Wow. What had I been missing? I leaned over to Amy and asked, "Is it like this every year?"

"Pretty much," she answered.

A little while later my back ache kicked in with force, so I took off early. I think the only thing I really missed was the birthday cake. But, hey, there's cake at most any birthday party, not just the southern ones. There's always next year.

What are your birthday traditions?