As I'm writing this to you, dear reader, today (August 23) just so happens to be my 36th birthday.
Yes yes, thank you, you're too kind, that means a lot, your sentiments are very much appreciated! Truly, they are! But I've learned something about birthdays in the last few years: it comes to be that it isn't so much about how many more are in front of you, but rather how you've enjoyed the ones behind you in all the years of your life.
That really hits home with me today, seeing how this is the first birthday without my mom, Lynda. Yes, I'm a grown adult in his mid-30's, but when it comes to receiving something such as a simple birthday card containing a message written purely in love from your mom, then let's be honest here, it doesn't matter what age you are. Everyone loves a card from Mom, and it breaks my heart that I'll no longer receive any more from her.
How will I celebrate tonight? Well, you all know me; I'm a simple man with simple desires. Doesn't take too much to make me happy. I'm going to cook some lasagna for supper, sit down on the couch, and watch some TV. Maybe a movie. I'll probably text some folks, see a smile start to crown on my face, and I'll have some cake. In all honesty, friends, I know that I'll shed some tears tonight because the woman who gave me my life is no longer with us.
But that's okay. It's normal. After all, we just had Mom's celebration of life service earlier this month, so a lot of the feelings that come with trying to say goodbye are still very raw for me. I'll think back to some of my favorite birthday memories and I'll smile again.
It's 1993, I'm turning eight years old. My family and I are at my sister Laurel's in Saskatoon. We're outside, feeling the late summer heat and breeze at the same time, the kind of weather that tells you the super-hot days of summer are leaving out the door but still enough of it to tell you that it isn't fall just yet. It's just right. We're barbecuing burgers and hot dogs, and all of us kids just pig right out. That's what you do when you're eight, right? The food's great, but I know what's coming because I saw the box earlier that day. Sure enough, here comes the ice cream cake from Dairy Queen. I'm elated, Brendon's excited, even my tiny little niece Carly seems pretty damn jazzed by this cake! She's not even two yet, but she knows good cake when she sees it. Pictures are snapped, that old song gets belted out, and candles are blown out. As we enjoy our cold, tasty and decadent treat, Brendon and I are presented with our gifts. He opens his - a toy Triceratops from Jurassic Park. Nice! I open mine - a young Tyrannosaurus Rex from Jurassic Park. VERY nice! Hey, what can I say, it was 1993 and everybody was all about that now-classic Steven Spielberg movie. I'm a dino nut and I always will be. My only reservation about my gift at the time was that my T-Rex wasn't the adult one being sold at the time. But that's parent mathematics for you: let's just spend $19.99 instead of $49.95. Smart.
It's 1998, I'm turning 13 years old. Landmark age, as I'm now entering those troubled years known as the teens. Ooohhh, scary! Well, not yet from my perspective. It would actually be another year or two before I became one of those listless, act-like-I-don't-care-about-anything teenagers. Ah, hormones. No, back in '98, I'm just a 12-year old looking to officially become a teen. I hop in the van with my dad, who drives over to the D&E in Outlook for his lottery tickets, as well as whatever I want for my birthday party that night. You're telling me Jack Ruttle is going to escort me to a store and pretty much present me a blank check? Hey, I'm a kid, of course I'm going to take that deal. Chips and pop? Check. Licorice and way too much chocolate? Yep. A big ole stack of movies to rent? You better believe it. Not long after we get home, my friends arrive and we head down to the basement, which has pretty much become Party Central for the evening's itinerary. We start to mow through the movies before Mom calls us upstairs for supper. For a little while at the supper table that night, it looks like as if Jack and Lynda had more than just three sons. More like seven or eight. The rest of the night is a sugar-infested blur, going through movie after movie and playing video game after video game. Now that I think about it, just how the hell did we fit that many kids around the supper table, anyway...?
It's 2021, I've now turned 36 years old. A lot has changed over the years. Too much, to be perfectly honest. Gone are the days of having a gaggle of friends at the house for a sleepover, while we party in the basement with too much junk food. Gone are the days of backyard celebrations with burgers, hot dogs, ice cream cake, and prehistoric toys from a hit movie franchise. What they're replaced with are grabbing a few favorite things from the grocery store, going home to enjoy them, and watching some TV to pass the time. Birthdays don't have to be complicated, sometimes they're just another day like any other. That's okay. That's life.
I'm perfectly content with the text messages I've received, or the birthday greetings on Facebook, or the heartfelt cards I've gotten over the last few days. It all means a lot to me, especially right now.
Abraham Lincoln is credited with saying, 'In the end, it's not the years in your life that count. It's the life in your years.' I like that, and I think Honest Abe was on to something there.
However long the rest of us have on this earth, we have to make the time count.
Otherwise, what's the point of any of it, right?
For this week, that's been the Ruttle Report.
