Another Day

This one was exceptionally long: leaving at 0700 and returning at 2230.  The morning started at 0545, the usual time.  Upon becoming aware, the first words uttered are “Good morning, God.”  As with many who live with an unpredictable, chronic condition, the body is surveyed for new changes . . . new anomalies.  There are none.  “Thank You, God.”  Noting that not only is it another day, but the mark of another year, that prompts another “thank You God.”  The phone rings, a friend in Alabama whose wedding I recently officiated.  “You didn’t think I would forget, did you?”

As on all of my past birthdays thoughts quickly turn to my mom, The Boss.  Arriving three weeks premature at 4 lbs, 4 oz. almost six decades ago, no one except The Boss expected me to survive. After living my first two months in an incubator, The Boss scooped me up and took me home, proclaiming that she could take better care of me.  And she did.  I am still here.  And as tight as things sometimes got, especially after Father’s sudden demise just months shy of my 15th birthday, The Boss was my earthly rock.  Even now, at the age of 94, she still asks “Can I do anything for you?”

At some point the mobile phone started beeping.  Birthday greetings posted on my Facebook timeline.  Private messages.  Virtual cakes, balloons and cards.  Well wishes.  The Beatles.  In the meantime, I was on the road to the Harris County Civil Courts building, arriving around 7:45.  More phone beeps.  More greetings via Facebook timeline.  Attempts to respond with a LIKE in acknowledgment and appreciation for the thought.  From the Civil Courts building to the post office to Greenway Plaza.  More phone beeps.  Some text messages via mobile phone and Facebook. Finally to my office.  “Happy birthday!”  A Gmail pop-up announces a gift from my Sweet Pea.

Three hours into may “desk” time I am roused for lunch.  They close/lock the office and the seven of us go a few blocks down Voss.  The 7th, a part-time bookkeeper, says, “I feel kind of guilty; I just got here 30 minutes ago.”  The reply: “oh, just do as you’re told: go to lunch!”  There ensued about 90 minutes of non-business talk, good food, and really funny stories of “when we were kids.”  A single-digit number of folks ranging in age from 25 to 59 (guess who that is), Black, Vietnamese, Caucasian, Hispanic, and Other, and it was then that I recalled that our “event planner” – the 25-year-old, addresses us as “Family” in her emails.  Somehow, it was all so normal, relationships that began somewhere between 4 months and 23 years ago have converged into one Family.

Back to the office.  More messages, phone calls, etc.  The Boss calls with her own embellished rendition of “Happy birthday to you.”  She still holds a decent tune.  My best friend calls, insisting that we “do something.”  We meet for dinner, then she wants to take me shopping. It is way late and I am far spent.  And stuffed!  Still, she is my best friend, so we stop to browse.

It is now 2321.  After 100+ timeline posts, messages, emails, virtual gifts, gift cards and phone calls, Another Day is almost over, It is not a day I will soon forget.  Let me tell you why.

I can remember other birthdays.  Hugely expensive presents — watches, dinners at over-priced restaurants, a diamond pendent, gold pendants with matching earrings, blah, blah, blah.  What the giver did not seem to grasp was that the gift was not as important as the spirit in which it is given.  I came to have no appreciation for such gifts because they were intended to be substitutes for what is most important about being human.  What is that?  I’m glad you asked.  What is most important about being human, and what keeps us human, is the human connection.  For one who spends a good deal of time in solitude, the human connection is not taken for granted.  Whether via keystrokes transmitted electronically, a phone call, or a place at the table, the genuine spirit of the greeting is as warming as a smile, as tangible as a handshake or a hug.

And so, to my friends and family, thank you for one of the best birthdays ever.  All day long, in one way or another, I was connected.

And so ends Another Day, which reminds me of an old gospel song: Another day that the Lord has kept me.  He has kept me from all evil, kept my mind stayed on Jesus.  Another day . . .