Today is another birthday, another in a long string of birthdays. I’ve now reached the age where I wonder how many more I’ll have before the Big Black, and also the age where there’s not many of the people I grew up with left.
Fortunately there are still a few, and there’s others who were well met along the way. This birthday would have passed by with little notice from me were it not for friends calling on the phone and emailing me, and surprising hell out of me by doing so, truthfully. I’d no idea so many had kept track of my birth day, and now I realise that I’ve no idea at all what theirs are.
So there’s one I need to get going on, finding out their birthdays. I never was much for remembering birthdays and anniversaries, mostly because my time sense is so peculiar. I can set my mental clock to wake up at virtually any specific minute during the night, and do so unerringly. But when it comes to knowing which day of the week it is, I need reminders so I don’t skip a day taking my statin pill.
I spent so much time living in remote wilderness that I told time by the season, and the years passed pretty much the way leaves fall from trees. It was a good life, when I was doing that, and I learned a lot about people simply by not being around them much. Got along with them better, too. But the time came to move on, which was the same time I discovered what the value of my 40 acres of redwoods had risen to.
Two of my old Navy buddies from 52 years ago emailed birthday greetings to me and some friends I left behind in Washington when I moved here, called on the phone, one 2 days ago and the other this morning, and my best friend called on Friday as well. The best gift of all is friends who care.