Yesterday was my birthday. I received greetings and wishes in the forms of cards, phone calls, e-cards, e-mails, and Facebook messages and posts and comments and tags. There were even confrontations in which people walked right up to me and expressed wishes about my oldness straight to my face. Some people reached out to me in as many as four ways. The number of expressions from family and friends was way beyond significantly greater than on any other anniversary of my birth.
The folks that came at me in more than one way made me so aware of my blessings to have them in my life. I was also very touched by those who put some thought or emotion or a chunk of words in the message they conveyed. That chunky thing works for this wordy boy. When it comes spoken and written communication, I’m a walking and talking equivalent of a big box store.
Beyond these mentioned overachievers, there’s a goodly group of people who, having been kind enough to befriend me on Facebook, get little reminders that old Dick is having a birthday. Some probably saw that virtual string tied around their finger and thought a nice thought about me… or otherwise. Others took the time to send a little communiqué to let me know that I had been on their mind for at least a moment.
It touched me to see how many sent positive vibes my way. Yeah, I said vibes. My tribe and I went through the Sixties. Hell, I am even unabashed in my use of groovy, which yesterday was. My knowledge of the good fortune all of these people represent n my life is deeply etched on a virtual slab of granite in my mind. Many who read this will nod and say, “I always knew that boy had rocks in his head.”
I have concluded through this experience that it is imperative that I send a friend request to Mark Zuckerberg. The movie was intriguing. The critics overstated the negative picture it painted of him. He is still unformed, but it seems as if he is growing into his wealth and influence. Only time will tell. All that said, I am in debt to the young man. I live in Kansas and work in Missouri. A big slice of my heart resides in Louisiana, and pieces of it reside in the four corners to which some of my life acquaintances have been scattered. His invention enables this Southern boy to draw sustenance from the many wonderful souls I’ve known. I’m glad to have them back. I’m glad he gave them to me.
Looking back at that paragraph, I have to mention that I taught Luke, my Oklahoma grandson, how to say “it is imperative.” You can feel the drama when he says it. He and my Louisiana grandson, Brady, are like sponges. I have to be careful what I say so as to not have them soak up something they oughtn’t.
The biggest blessing of all for my birthday was having Suzie’s surgery and chemo of 2010 in the rearview mirror. The fire marshal wouldn’t let me have a cake due to the number of candles that would have been involved, but had I had one, I would have wished for many years together with her just before issuing from my lungs an extinguishing blast of air necessarily of Katrina proportions. (That sentence might make a good entry to the Bulwer-Litton Fiction Contest. I already have one entry pending.) Absent the cake and candles, I deferred to the Man Upstairs with a prayer. I’ve got confidence in Him.
