Wednesday, June 21, 2023

Improvisation

 Today, I turn sixty-one years young. For most folks, this is not one of those blowout big deal birthdays. It doesn't have the cachet of sixteen, or eighteen. Nor does it have the devilish allure of turning twenty-one. I take some satisfaction that I incidentally made a big deal of turning thirty by leaving my hometown and moving to California. As I was looking at forty, I trekked to Key West imbued with the spirit of Jimmy Buffett and another big deal was made. At fifty I gathered my tribe together for a weekend of nostalgia and nonsense, including a MadLib and a skit that portrayed life under President Dave. Celebrations with the requisite attention focused on my past and my present. 

Last year, another "zero" birthday found me stumbling into my sixties, with enough gas left in the tank to pound through two full days of Disneyland and still have energy to move forward on the next stage of wherever life had in store for me. 

This year? Not my favorite. Lived through having our school closed. Then it wasn't. Then my mom died. Then we went on strike. And those were the broad strokes. Another year in which the tragedy was put aside to age for later comedy. And now I am turning sixty-one. 

I keep saying that as if it means something. Maybe not for all of you. But for me, this is significant because shortly after this birthday wraps up, I will have lived longer than my father. 

I cannot say that I have taken every cue from my father's life as a pattern for my own. He made some choices that I don't think I would. Or could. I did lift a lot of my parenting blueprint from my old man, and his voice is the one I hear repeating the words, "There are no bad kids, just bad behavior." He was a great dad. He was a good salesman. He was my model for telling a story. He didn't hang around long enough for me to figure out how to be an old man. 

I resent the fact that he didn't live long enough to see me become a teacher. A father. A super-blogger. So you'll forgive me if my behavior is a little erratic while I plot in a new course for this next phase of my life. I will henceforth be making it up as I go along. 

2 comments:

Kristen Caven said...

Inverse sixteen, just as perplexing.

RJB said...

I'd go with 60 one-derful. There aresome in your inner circle who don't have a sixty something Papa blueprint. We could look to each other, or form a club. But what to name it?