Happy 50th birthday, Son. Really? No way. Can't be. Now, I shall quote the mantra of old people. "Where did the time go?" 50 years of being oh, so proud of your accomplishments, oh, so scared of your antics causing major problems (Yes, your brother told me about your taking the corner on Lover's Lane on 2 wheels) and, oh, so blessed by the years of joy you have given us.
For all your tough business practices, you have a tender heart for people that will probably embarrass you at the mere mention of it. Get over it. It's a mother's prerogative to embarrass the one she gave birth to.
The day your brother was born, we followed all the "expert" advice of the day. Dad took the baby into the house and put him in the crib, then picked you up from the baby sitter's. I was waiting at the front door with a new toy for you. The door flew open and you raced past my open arms shouting, "Where's my baby brother!" So much for the experts whose advice left me standing with empty arms.
You may not remember the Christmas parade in Oakdale the year we were enroute from Arizona to New Jersey. Grandma and I stood at the back of the crowd watching you take care of your 2 year old brother and a neighbor's little girl about the same age. You talked to them the whole time, pointing out things of interest. It's not easy to keep one two year old engrossed, let alone two, but you did it and you were only six!
A Halloween birthday made that day the busiest of the year for your mother and I apologize for being grumpier on your birthday than most other days of the year. My grumpiness, however, was a backdrop highlighting your amazing tenderness. The year we moved from Arizona to Hawaii was Of course, over your birthday. We were staying with Grandma Nettles because our belongings were packed and in storage. Since most of Grandma's neighbors didn't know you, we took you back to Ft. Huachuca where they did.
You were so excited at treats a neighbor gave you, you rushed to the car to show us. For some reason, you stopped short in your glowing report and said, "Dad, you're hurting, aren't you?" Dad, hadn't said a word.
"A little bit," he replied.
"Danny, get in the car. We're going back to Grandma's. Dad's hurting." Never a glimmer of disappointment at your childhood tradition being cut short. You were eleven years old.
However, you made up for it the next year, in Hawaii. Mountains are steep, valleys deep, and flashfloods quick in Hawaii. Heavy rains can cause serious problems in a heart beat. More than one unsuspecting person has been swept to their doom. On Trick or Treat night, it poured. I called the mps to ask if the night was cancelled and rescheduled. They refused to give me an answer. I was in a quandry (dither) because I didn't want you to miss out on the fun, but didn't want you killed in a flashflood, either. Finally, Dad made the decision. "Let them go. They'll be fine."
With a stern warning that they were to return home if four neighbors said they weren't doing trick or treat in such nasty weather, I sent them on their way and wrote a letter to Grandma, complaining that your dad sent you out to surf the nearest tsunami. You were gone for the longest time. I paced and fretted.
When you finally relieved my anxieties by returning, your sacks were full of goodies. Don't remember who let it slip, but you outsmarted your mother by going to the farthest end of post before knocking on any doors! That way, if you were turned down, you could continue to collect. After all, you were on your way home. Like Dad said when you got your first big promotion, "How'd you get so smart?"
That Christmas, Dad was hospitalized for his surgery. Rather than fret about it, you focused on your swimming and won a bucket load of first prizes. If I remember correctly, you won 7 first places that weekend and moved up in to the AA group. "I'm going to pin a ribbon on every tube in Dad's body!" you crowed. You won all those ribbons for Dad. Amazing.
Oh, the memories, my son. Your 12 years of patriotic service to your country in the U.S. Navy, your marriage to a woman who could not possibly be more wonderful. Being a good dad to Jeffrey and Ashley. Guiding them into adulthood with a firm, steady, but loving hand. Where oh where did the time go? Like the landscape in Hawaii, we've had steep ups and downs, but through it all, we've watched and prayed. And been grateful.
Happy birthday my son. Love, you, Mom
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