It's My Party and I'll Sing If I Want To

Because my birthday had fallen on a Monday, in 1973, my mother arranged for my birthday party to fall on the Saturday that preceded the actual date.

Forty-nine years ago, today.

I remember a lot of people who attended that party in the garden homes on Bowhill Avenue, in Nepean: Billy, Gary, Suzie, Ann, Valerie, Alan, Stephen, Kirk, and Ricky. I look at the old photos and some names elude me now.

My sisters, Holly and Jen, were there, of course.

Being my birthday, I had to be the centre of attention. Being the middle kid, I sometimes felt as though I wasn't getting as much attention as my siblings, so when my eighth birthday party came, I wanted everybody to pay attention to me.

When the music started up, I started singing. But not only did I sing along with the record, I grabbed the microphone for our tape recorder and swaggered around the room, serenading my guests as they danced around me, the unplugged mic cord dangling below.

Dressed in bell-bottom, brown slacks with a matching brown button-up shirt, complete with a sweater vest knitted with beige elephants, I was a 70s superstar.

I was likely singing to the Partridge Family. They were huge at the time and I loved them. Only a few weeks later, Led Zeppelin's Houses of the Holy would be released, and my musical tastes would change forever.

Happy Thursday!