The Birthday Boy

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As one of millions of Baby Boomers, I felt obliged to celebrate my recent birthday.  At first, I considered hanging, but ruled it out, at least for the present.  Instead, I celebrated with my children and grandchildren.  The clan descended upon my shack in the sun on Saturday.  They were heavily loaded with gifts, cards and an ice cream cake.  Since the cake is not on my diet, I limited myself to eating about half of it, instead of gobbling it down while my guests looked on.  It was a tasty treat indeed.  Oh, we also fetched in a giant order of Pizza.  After the feast, I began to suspect methamphetamine laced one or more of the dishes.  The grandchildren went completely nuts with gleeful energy.  It was too warm for them to play outdoors, according to their parents, so they screamed and yelled, racing in circles through the house, bouncing off strategically placed furniture for that last bit of thrill.  I think they had a great time and I enjoyed watching them.  Occasionally, I would catch a ricochet before he/she plowed headlong into a table or lamp, but otherwise I simply went with the flow.  The swarm repeatedly piled upon my son, who was only casualty.  I think they bent one of his knees “the other way” once or twice.  All, especially I, had a grand time.  There were gifts and sentimental cards involved, you know.  Here are a few of the loving sentiments I received on my “Special Day.”

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From G'son, William

From G'sons Augie and Josh

From Sarah and Charles

From G'daughter, Sophia

From Ben & Tam

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How could I not feel cherished after these?

As if these were not enough, I received some special gifts.  One of the best was a set of dumbbells, just the right size for children who have taken an infernal interest in their grandfather’s collection of “big boy” weights.  More than once, I have entered my weight room only to discover a team of grandchildren trying to lug or hoist more than their own weight in pig iron.  This scene has a very disturbing effect on me, thus the lighter (2 and 4 pounds, I think) dumbbells will allow me to actually show them a few training exercises without too much concern that they will come away crippled for life.

My other favorite is my new bicycle seat.  It seems my son took pity on his dad when he learned I was riding an “Ice Pick.”  He went to the farm supply store and found a seat worthy of a 1940s vintage tractor.  (Could it be for my 1940s vintage bottom?)  You have seen those old seats, right?  They are about 30” wide and supported on soft springs.  

This one is really designed for a bike, but is sprung, heavily padded and even has a comfort feature for the prostate challenged rider.  I guess I have that to look forward to, too.  At least I shall be prepared in the bicycle department!

Other cherished gifts included golf shirts, cookware (huh?) and some recommended reading.  My son-in-law thinks I should try the “Dresden Files,” a series by Jim Butcher.  I respect his judgment and shall acquire an early volume soon – while I can still buy a paper printed book.

That is it for me.  I am thankful for all the loving attention.  I am also grateful I shall not turn 65 again anytime soon.

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