Guest Column / Debra Tomaselli

A birthday marked by games, new friendships and … deodorant

“Come on, Grandma, tell us another embarrassing story.” Ave’s blue eyes shone with delight.

My granddaughters love my childhood stories.

Angelina spun on her heels. “Yes,” she said. “Tell us another.”

I pursed my lips, shifted my eyes, stroked my chin, and remembered the day of my 13th birthday party.

We’d moved to a new state, and the party at my home was the perfect opportunity to get to know my classmates better.

When the doorbell rang, I felt excited, nervous, and delighted.

Mom organized the activities. We had a treasure hunt, a hula hoop contest and a race to build pyramids with paper cups. I had a conversation with Margaret, who had the shiniest, dark brown hair I’d ever seen. I shared candy with Bobby, who made everyone laugh. I talked with Paula, who wondered about the Church’s position at the time that only boys could be altar servers.

The party was in full swing when Mom announced it was time to open presents. Swathed in streamers, I took a seat in the living room. My classmates crowded around, and Madeline handed the gifts to me, one by one. Some were wrapped in floral paper. Some in bold stripes. Others boasted cartoon characters. It was a happy, joyous time.

Finally, I opened a fancy box covered in floral gift-wrap. Inside was a beautiful, plastic container about the size of my palm. It was covered with pink rose images. It looked like something you’d give my mom.

I turned it over in my hand, admiring the pastel florals. It was a far cry from the bright primary hues. It was so different than the neon colors.

“What is it?” someone asked.

I rolled it over. I tried to open it. “I don’t know,” I said.

My friend Madeline took it, inspected it, and handed it back.

I turned it over and forced the cap off.

A beautiful rose scent wafted up my nose.

Beautiful.

“Who gave it to you?” they asked.

I looked at the tag. “Danny,” I said.

As everyone looked his way, Danny blushed and sank into his chair.

“What is it?” they asked.

“I don’t know,” he murmured. “My mother bought the gift.”

Then Madeline grabbed it from me. Squinting, she read the label.

“Deodorant,” she said. “It’s deodorant.”

The room fell silent.

Deodorant? I didn’t even use it yet. I blushed and sank into my seat.

Some kids, like myself, were clueless. Others smothered their giggles.

I felt so embarrassed.

Afterward, I tried to forget the awkwardness.

But, as you can see, I never forgot.

Surprisingly, however, the unexpected gift became my favorite gift. I loved the fragrant, floral scent. I’ve spent a lifetime searching for that same brand, but to no avail.

The party, too, was a priceless gift. Nobody teased me or Danny. I liked these considerate kids. They became my friends.

Looking back, I realize there was something sacred about that deodorant, that scent, that gathering, that moment.

And I’ve never forgotten that either.
 

(Debra Tomaselli writes from Altamonte Springs, Fla.) †