Because what is there to celebrate, really? Getting older? Looking older? Feeling older?

I don't really want to be any older than I am right now. (I'm quite content paying full price for movie admissions, I don't want to be charged the senior citizen's rate for a meal at a restaurant and I certainly don't want to be asked if I qualify for those special rates by some pimple-faced, teen-aged clerk!)

I don't really want to look any older than I do right now. (Hey, my eyebrows are already starting to do that old man thing where they shoot out in all directions, and there's more hair in my ears than above my ears.)

And I sure don't want to feel any older than I do right now. (My back's already killin' me!)

So what is there to celebrate?

I suppose I should look on the bright side. At least it's not that traumatic "6-0" I've heard so much about. But turning 56 is certainly nothing like turning, say, 6. Now that's when a birthday is a birthday!

It's a day that's special for kids from the moment they wake up until that last flicker of the eyelids when sleep ultimately steals the magical day away.

I remember the feeling. I remember streamers, presents, decorations, presents, balloons, presents, cake and ice cream, and, oh yeah, did I mention presents?

OK, so I really don't remember it at all (heck, it was 50 years ago!). But I'm sure all of those things were included.

This year, there probably won't be any streamers or decorations. I'm certainly hoping there will be presents (that's extra large in the T-shirt department, in case my boys are listening). And I'm sure there will be a cake--but unlike the one I had when I was 6, this one will be loaded with calories, cholesterol, fat grams, triglycerides and all of that other ugly stuff doctors hadn't invented yet 50 years ago.

It was so simple in 1955 to eat a sugary-sweet frosting flower, wash it down with a sugary punch and brush away the guilt with a little Ipana toothpaste.

But for an adult in 2005, a small piece of cake means an extra 45 minutes on the treadmill. And I hate to even think about adding that scoop of ice cream (but I will anyway)!

Birthdays--like Trix--are for kids, not adults. Adults have to face birthdays like any other day ... get up, fight the traffic to the office, work all day, fight the traffic home, eat dinner, go to bed. And while as 6-year-olds we're hoping to look a little older every year, as 56-year-olds we're hoping no one notices. In my case, I'm afraid they do.

You know, my wife had a milestone birthday earlier this summer (you know the one I'm talking about ... the number six is involved, and we're not talking the second digit here), and I heard so many people tell her how young she looked.

No one has told me that yet. In fact, one friend was even kind enough to say, "You're only going to be 56? You look so much older!"

Of course, my wife will no doubt fix me a special birthday dinner. My mom will be there, and so will my kids, Natalie's kids and all of our grandchildren. My brother and sister will both call me, and so will my closest friends.

So I'll be surrounded by or at least talk to all of my favorite people in the world, and if it takes a birthday celebration to accomplish that, then I'm going to keep right on celebrating.

Because I do plan to have many more birthdays--ear hair or not!

Want to talk? Give me a call at 408.354.3110, or write to dsparrer@svcn.com.