A number of no particular mathematical significance
except in this case it is a measurement
one that could be restated as 816
or even as 24387
but we are less inclined to count the months or the days of life, preferring instead to measure the years.
May 23, 1946 in New York City.
From then to now, a measurement of life.
My life.
On this my birthday.
This year's occasion carries no specific meaning - it is not a qualification for any additional governmental benefit, nor does it mark the end of another decade.
I am as it happens four times as old as I was when I graduated high school in 1963, although certainly not four times as wise, even though many times four in experiences, positive and negative.
As a teacher, it is convenient that my natal day falls so close to the end of the school year, a time when I would be inclined to look back if for no other reasons than I am close to separating from this year's students: our seniors on he 29th (although I will be on leave that day) the rest on June 18.
Yet I have always been reflective by nature, and a birthday is an appropriate occasion to look back, especially since at my age how many more birthdays I have before me is a matter of some doubt.
This has been a very full year.
My wife has continued her life with cancer, having undertaken a stem cell transplant this past fall, which has surely prolonged her remission even as it cost her hair. Now it has grown back sufficiently and she has, after a lifetime of long hair, decided to keep it short.
I had my own health scare, when the nurse at school was sure I was having at least a transient ischemic attack if not a full-blown stroke. No cause could be found, I have had similar episodes since (including midday today) and it is now clear these are ocular migraines, something more annoying than debilitating, although they can temporarily incapacitate me until both eyes are again fully functional.
I am difference.
No beard, short hair that is back to my natural color (my wife wanted me to lose the gray) and as a result of change of diet and taking on a variety of physical regimens - yoga, some weight work, jogging - down some 25-30 pounds since Thanksgiving. I am healthier than I have been in decades, with the allergens so far having minimal affect on me this Spring.
I acknowledge these. They matter. They are of lesser importance.
Lesser importance than what, you ask?
Living with integrity.
Parker Palmer titled one of his books "Let Your Life Speak."
If how I act, write, speak does not reflect what I think I believe, then I am not letting my life speak.
And if I live my life according to firmly held principals, then my actions of all kinds should readily demonstrate that.
I do not know who will offer me greetings and in what form they may appear. Surely I will have electronic messages of various kinds. I have electronically been given freebies at Starbucks and elsewhere. My spouse is taking me out to dinner someplace at least somewhat West of Arlington where I live, although whether due west or southwest she will not tell me, only that I should expect to drive at least 90 minutes.
Many of my students know about the occasion.
Some of my peers do as well.
There is as far as I know perhaps one teacher in the building older than me, and a few within two-three years of my age.
I tire more easily, but I still seem to have the energy to function at a high level as a teacher.
Some simpler things seem of greater importance. It is usually more important to stop anything else and enjoy when any of the three remaining cats decides to gift me with a cuddle.
I have accepted that some doors are now closed for good - I will not be a major league ballplayer, and as the last three Presidents are younger than me I do not expect to operate from the White House, nor even to run for political office of any kind.
But I can still teach.
I still find occasion to offer my thoughts here and through other forms of writing.
I can turn on the radio and be delighted by a familiar piece of music or enlightened and moved by one experienced for the first time.
Most of all, I still have the ongoing experience of the love of Leaves on the Current, who despite how difficult a person I am continues to love me and want to share this life and more with this irascible codger.
68.
A number.
A measurement of time.
A span of a life - so far.
I have been with Leaves for more than 39 years, more than 1/2 my life and 2/3 of hers.
The night we discovered she had cancer we wondered how much longer we might have together.
Each additional day brings a blessing, even as we still experience the full range of the vicissitudes of human emotion. IT helps cut short our anger, our irritation, our impatience, our disappointment, because after all we are both still here, we are still together in this life.
I no longer worry how much longer I might have.
I am satisfied to still be able to contribute to the world around me.
I am finally learning to accept love and gratitude.
I wonder what I will be like when I am 69, were I to complete another year?
For now? I'm amazed I am still here. I am surprised I am still able to be of some value as a member of human society.
Thanks for reading.
Peace.