It’s unavoidable that when the decade birthdays arrive, you take stock of your life a little more intensely than during the in-betweens. For some reason, when the number on the left finally increments, it seems more significant then the others. This is all purely a matter of perception, of course, it’s really just another year added to the temporal sum of one’s life, a persistent progression of numbers for which one is grateful (on the way to 40, anyway)… but with a growing sense of “oh shit” on the downhill side. Getting to be another year older is usually preferable to the alternative (some poor souls might argue that point for reasons of their own), and is certainly a good and natural time to reflect on the things in life that matter.
I could make a very long list of the things in my life for which I’m thankful this day. My relatively good health, my still vibrant life in music, my home in Brown County, the fact that my brother is recovering from a triple-bypass and is resting comfortably with his clan up in Ft. Wayne, my canines, all the material accouterments an honest man could ever need or wisely desire, etc etc.
But I want to focus on one blessing for which I am truly and eternally grateful, but one which I too often take for granted and only rarely appreciate as I should, and that’s my wife, Rhonda. A petite, pretty blonde with a cute little crooked smile; a wickedly distinctive honking laugh when she’s really tickled that can bring as much joy to a room full of people as I ever have with my music; a devoted mother and grandmother with a heart of gold that manages to love me in spite of my teaming list of faults and failures; her intelligence, persistence, spirit and strong will (well, the latter can be a challenge sometimes 😉 ) ; her willingness to deal with a curmudgeon such as myself and actually, astonishingly, enjoy it… I can only say that of all the countless ways God (or Spirit, or the Universe, or whatever you prefer) has blessed me during my 60 years riding this blue sphere around the Sun, Rhonda is the greatest gift of all.
All material things can be gained, lost, stolen or replaced. You can feel great one day and crappy the next. You can play your ass off at a gig one night yet seemingly unable to hit your stride the following night. You can feel the exaltation of Spirit in your heart or be caught up in your petty little personality-level disorders. Compared to the love of a truly good life partner, these things are but passing show.
Friends know I’m not really into holidays too much, they seem largely contrived and oversold to me. But birthdays are obviously not contrived, as there was a certain date upon which you entered this world, and it will always be a personal milestone. Sometimes I do think birthday hoopla is oversold, which is why I don’t advertise mine. The older I get, the more a birthday seems not so much an excuse to party as it does a day to pause and reflect, and let your mind ruminate over the course of your life, and to give quiet thanks for another year of breathing, playing, working, growing, and loving. It’s largely because of Rhonda that I can continue to enjoy these things so much.
I really only want one thing for my birthday… and I already have her. I trust I never screw that up.
