For the first time in well more than four decades I will not call my mom today on this, my sixty-sixth natal anniversary, to thank her for giving birth to me. Mom passed away June 3 of last year and there's still a hole in a lot of my family's hearts where she was, and which our memories of her can only start to fill.
The tragedy of youth is that it's wasted on the young. When I was a kid, I don't remember knowing anyone my current age (though at some point in time my grandparents must have been this old. Except I'm not a grandparent, yet (staring at our two children)). I don't think I even realized people could get this old and now that I have I don't ever see myself as old. Worn, yes. Beaten and broken, yeah. Old? Dunno.
I'm thinking now of two distant friends from long ago, Bill S and Dave M, whose birthdays were yesterday and how, despite the years we worked together I never knew that at that time. I wonder if they did the long stare yesterday morning in the mirror to kick off their birthdays?
That guy I see in the mirror every morning must look different to me than to most other people I encounter the rest of the day. For instance, people who see that guy tend to hold doors for him and to also say 'sir' to him and offer to help him carry things upstairs or out to the car. Okay, I have a shotgun, but I think there's more than just Al Capone's rule at work here. And no, I don't really.
I should feel something today, right? Except with almost 8 plus billion of us here on the ant farm I have no idea how many of us are celebrating the same Natal Anniversary, though this kind of gives me an inkling. Where would we all meet? Yankee Stadium? The Super Dome? A small state of our own? I have no clue. Being special is hard; I'll stick to being different.
People congratulate me on my birthday like it was my idea. Sorry, no. I was oblivious to you (just like now) and to me, if that helps. Was everyone in the delivery room waiting for me to finish putting on my gloves and shirt? 'Will I need my sled?' I shouted before the delivery began. I think not. We all came into this world the way we're all going out. And all those years of possession by our possessions will be mist in a minute and then dust forever.
Memory must be the first thing to go because I swear it was only earlier this week when I asked this incredibly beautiful girl to marry me (which she did; I probably should next ask for a pony ride, considering my luck). The calendar tells me that my 'earlier this week' was actually over forty years. And we have two children, okay, they are grown-ups now with their own lives and I'm forced to realize the tighter I hold on to time the faster it slips away.
Through the love and sometimes other descriptives of my family to the kindnesses of randy and random strangers streaming through my life, from Elechester and Dinah Shore on TV to Belford, down the street from Aunt Anne and Uncle Chief, to Wannamassa, Franklin Township, to Somerset and up to Rhinebeck and Canal Road, a year on ice in Greenland and then vorwarts to Germany and now the Nutmeg State, phew! It's been quite a ride.
And I've had a window seat for all of it, to include the stuff I wish I hadn't, and I'm glad I remembered to wear trousers with pockets so I had some place to put all the memories and the fun.
Thank you Mom and Dad, without whom none of this would be possible (or otherwise) and to you, Evan, Kelly, Kara, Jill, and Adam who've helped make it memorable (at least to me).
And you stopping to read this today, thanks for being here and sometimes being back there as well. Yeah, I'm sorry for being a poor companion. I will strive to improve and have every intention of doing some of this again tomorrow so if you're not doing anything you could come along and we could do it together.
Despite what I've read or as you may have heard, I've learned it's never too late to have a happy childhood, but it is later than you think. Much later.Trust me on this one.
-bill kenny
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