My Fourth Quarter

I began what I expect to be the fourth quarter of my life last Sunday.  I turned 75.  I’ve reached an age when I see someone who says, “It’s good to see you.”, I reply, “It’s good to be seen.”

My parents had a professional photographer take my picture to mark my first year.  My hair was a little fuller, and straighter, but if I look closely enough, I see a bit of my youngest grandson, Jackson, somewhere in the smile.

When we’re young birthdays are big events.   A birthday cake with candles, ice cream, and gifts are the order of the day.  It’s a celebration that marks the passage of time. Young people often invite their friends to their home for a “party”.  Parties mean more of everything.

My birthday falls in line with Memorial Day, previously known as Decoration Day. and as a result, members of our extended family were always on hand to join my celebration.  My youngest son, Michael, had the same extended birthday when he was young.  July 10th fell close enough to the fourth of July that he garnered more gifts from our holiday visitors than his older March birthdayed siblings, David and Elizabeth.  For a time, he thought fireworks were just part of a normal birthday celebration.

This year’s birthday was low key.  We visited David, Lindsay, and Eva at their family cottage. Brady had a weekend basketball tournament, so Ruth and I watched him play on Saturday.  I got a couple gifts, a dozen cards, and a call from my childhood friend, Mitch.  Mitch is two days older than me, and I’ve known him since we were three. When we spoke, he said, “I just wanted to hear your voice”.  Good friends are like that.  You don’t need to see or hear from them all the time, but knowing they’re still out there is very special.

My Facebook account was filled with dozens of well-wishers. I’ve known many of these “posters” for forty years or more. They too are greatly appreciated.  Facebook posts are the modern day version of birthday cards.  Knowing you’re in someone’s thoughts is important.

For the past sixteen years I’ve shared my Memorial Day birthday with my grandson, Brady.  His basketball tournament put a kibosh on our seventeenth joint birthday celebration.  They say all good things must come to an end, and so it goes. He turns seventeen tomorrow.  While he’s still in the prime of his first quarter, I’m kicking off my fourth.

My good friend, Ed, turns 105 this November.  With any luck, and continued good health, I’ll follow in his footsteps.