Spilt Milk, Birthday Cakes and the Passage of Time

Much like many fortunate children living in a respectable, large city area, I had a loving family and birthdays were always wonderful, celebratory affairs that included cards, a cake, gifts from family and friends, all brought together for an occasion that marked the passing of another year of life.

As you get older and move from childhood to those early adult years in a big city, birthdays were hanging with rock 'n rollers and became somewhat of a different affair. Sex, drugs, concerts, booze, yet there was still family with gifts and cards, and sometimes a cake depending upon whether I was living at home or not at the time.

To give you a little further insight, during those years family to me are two brothers, a mother and a father. All fairly well adjusted, and although not a perfect family like television's "Leave It To Beaver" or "Father Knows Best" ideal of life, we were close, loving, and generally well taken care of without having the "luxuries of the day".

As the clock continued to tick, the years rolled by unnoticed. I turned from the rock 'n roll parties into the "Something 30" crowd searching for the brass ring that was always just beyond my grasp. Birthdays continued to come and go, but the timbre of the occasions had changed imperceptibly.

Add a few more years and friends moved on, some marrying and some dying. Birthdays became a dinner out, maybe see some live theatre, a small party where we listened to music from the "good old days", but still there was family. Maybe no cake or gifts but still cards, hugs and handshakes, a grouping of the clan if you will.

No one ever said life was easy, but birthdays are those specials moments when the day is yours to do with, as you will, unless of course someone has gone to the trouble of throwing you a surprise party and you are the complete center of attention. You know the type where it is much like when you were a small child, doted and fussed upon, ensuring that your day will be a special one.

As I rolled into my 40s, for me at least, the path I had been given is one of single; never married, childless, yet still birthdays still came and went. With few exceptions they weren't much different than the birthdays in my 30s. Old friends from 20 years back for the most part had completely moved on with their lives and were replaced by new faces. The two brothers; one married and living east the other single and living west, and the parents getting older, much as was I were still a staple part of birthdays but all was different now.

I still had the cards, hugs, handshakes and even the occasional gift or two, but was life changing around me or was it my attitude toward life that was changing? What comes to mind with additional age are additional questions. Hard questions, many with no answers. Yet, each day you get up for work, tend to your responsibilities, and begin the year anew.

After 40 years there are a lot of memorabilia, both physical and psychological, that sums up the total of your past. If contemplated the memorabilia can bring wonderfully happy, beautiful thoughts of days gone by or nightmares of bad decision making and wrong timing.

For me I'd been pretty lucky because I'd been taught two main ideas in life. One is to follow your heart wherever that may lead you and do so without fear, and two never back down from the negative and always embrace the positive. Combined, the strength of those two main ideas was, after all, what had got me through into my 40s while I buried friends whose time had come.

Being of French and Scottish descent the combination of stubbornness and ire provides a shield that if you're not of that blood line you will not understand. Time's passage was the first that had to be accepted and with the passing of my father the first of many proverbial nails into my own coffin was driven.

One less handshake, one less name on the birthday card, one less smile. I miss him still even though 12 years have passed. That was ok though because there were still my remaining family, friends cards, hugs, handshakes, with infrequent, special gifts that have slowly become much more important than you would ever had imagined during those rock 'n roll years.

The memories are good though and as you move into your late 40s there comes a time when everyone is asked to step up to the plate and hit the pitched ball of mortality hurtling at you from afar. It's not a thing you can ignore, you no longer have the naïveté of a child for you know your days are numbered. Each year, month, week, day you hit that ball it gains you more time on this planet.

By my late 40s I had buried my mother, leaving two brother and friends in my life. Good friends who are solid, decent, hardworking people and now my extended family. Birthdays were cups of tea bought by some of those people, maybe treated to a dinner out, a card in the mail from one coast and a phone call from the other and another nail driven into the coffin.

The concept of time is remarkable and for self-aware beings on this planet it can be a curse. We are merely a very, very tiny blip in the overall scope of universal time from beginning to present. Many people, including myself ask, "Where did the time go?" Few realize that we are only here for an extremely short period before we take our leave.

Today, July 23rd, 2009, a day I never thought I would open my eyes to see, to breathe the morning air at the age of 50, to I think back and reflect I find almost overwhelming. I never thought I would make it past forty - now what do I do? The weather today is overcast, rainy, damp and cold.

The summer, my favorite time of year has been non-existent in this part of the world this year, I'm ill with Swine Flu which has become of epidemic proportions in Toronto regardless of what the newspaper and television tell us and all around me is various types of chaos. Yet I'm still here.

Life, over the years, has brought with it a large level of cynicism and distrust for elected leaders and established powers that for the most part continue to invade my life. Not much different actually than the days of my Scottish Highlander clansmen during the feudal days. Instead of the sword though it is the pen, the media, that controls the power.

Swords in this city are illegal and God help you if you happen to be caught carrying one. Toronto is over 30 days into a city workers strike and the only reason to be thankful for the lack of regular summer heat is that the piles of garbage heaped in our public parks are not being stenching in 90 degree weather.

However, on this day there will be no cups of tea, one birthday card delivered by mail and no gifts. I will not take the chance to venture out with swine flu, passing it along to others while they try to congratulate me about the fact that my life is more than half over.

Only a few months ago I celebrated my 9th year of sobriety, kicking off the monkey that had latched itself onto my shoulder. It was only last year that I stood over my mother's gravesite and buried her beside my father, my brothers and niece in attendance. It was a small and quiet affair. She swung but one day missed the ball.

In the past 50 years I have won and lost in the pursuit of happiness and love, encountered friend and foe, lived in richness and poverty. Throughout it all there had forever been one special birthday card that I depended upon receiving no matter where I happened to be in the world.

Whether in Canada or Japan, South America or the U.K. there was always a card from my mom. Today, sitting here at the keyboard I realized that will never, ever happen again. She always signed it with love and drew a happy face beneath the name "Mom."

Am I sad? Yeah, a little, but not to the point of a "poor me" attitude. I may be sick with Swine Flu. I may have another nail in my coffin. I may not see anyone today. But all of that is spilt milk as far as I'm concerned.

Today is what I want to make of it, whether I am alone or not. Technology gives me the opportunity to share with others. So instead of handshakes I write this hub, instead of a hug I make or receive phone calls, instead of parents I have my remaining and extended family. I count my blessings.

Today is my birthday. It is up to me what I intend to do with the 24 extra hours that God gave me to enjoy because no one really knows whether or not we have another 24 hours in the bank. The ball was pitched this morning and I hit it. That's a good start. Now it arcs through the air, where it lands in life's outfield is mostly my call, barring any misfortune. Personally I intend to enjoy every moment however the day turns out and let the past stay where it is supposed to stay - in the past.

So to me, I woke up, walked to the kettle to make my morning cup of tea to start another day of writing and I sang "Happy Birthday" to myself. It's early in the morning, 6a.m. but soon it will be late enough in the day that I can play my favorite rock 'n roll CDs - loud! The rain will rain, the clouds will stay gray and there's nothing I can do about that. The weather was the luck of the draw and if I had my druthers I would prefer sitting in the sunshine but it wasn't meant to be.

Overall I'm happy. I have my own home, a beautiful 100-year-old oak and brick built house. For the most part I have my health and this Swine Flu will pass.

So what I've learned over all these years is that for me today is a day of reflection without pity, sadness or depression for one reason only. I choose it to be. So that's the way it will be. There is very little that can change that and I have my parents, grandparents, great grandparents, and my stubborn French and Scottish ancestry to thank for that.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention that there were two other major influential people in my life that helped me get me this far. One of them is Erma Bombeck and the other is George Carlin. Combine their takes on life and you have the perfect ingredients to weather most of what age will throw at you.

The Big 5-OH! Happy Birthday to me!
I welcome you 5-OH to the year 2009.
You control the time and I'll do my darndest to enjoy what to do with it.