On My Birthday

At 3:13 this morning I was awake, at first thinking I felt plenty rested and that it was just time to get up, put on the coffee, and do what? Picking up the history I’m just about to finish on the conquest of the west—namely New Mexico, and namely an exploration of the relationship between Anglos, New Mexicans, and the Indians that populated the area historically—I wasn’t in the mood to read facts, even though in this book by Hampton Sides the facts are presented in an interesting manner. Instead, I thought I’d just wait out this hopefully momentary sense of alertness, and I remembered that today is my birthday. It is the big one. I’m 65. My mother was 46, my daddy 54, my grandmothers 68 and 75 when I graduated from college in 1965. As my mother said more than once in the last years of her long, 90-year-old life, “where did the time go”.

Regardless of what any of us might say. “Oh, no big deal, it’s just another day.” Well, when you consider the alternative, yes, it is a big day. A friend I’ve known for 20 years celebrates the entire month of October for her birthday. At least that used to be her view of her special day, her month. I haven’t been around her over the last few years. To her, the birthday of every one she cherishes is a big event, something to be celebrated and honored. I remember some fine occasions in years past when our little group of friends spent lots of time with one another.

The instant in the wee hours that I remembered my birthday, I did feel a tinge of excitement, even though I knew I had no special plans for this day—no birthday cake, no flowers, no invitation to a meal. A friend, one of the members of our gang from years ago who now lives in California, called to say “happy birthday!” just as my oldest sister, Joan knocked on my front door, card in hand. Joan has her own special day coming up soon as well—the celebration of a new decade. Over coffee she and I talked about stuff—Hurricane Ike, the stock market, the place here. All of the small towns in this part of the state are still without power in the aftermath of this multi-billion dollar act of God. Later in the morning I was headed to the county dump with household trash when I called a friend 65 miles to the east to see how she was faring after the storm. Her power was out for less than 48 hours, and she is playing host to old friends who had moved to a retirement high rise in Houston, and whose place is still without power from the storm. “What are you doing special for your birthday,” she asked. “Right now I’m on my way to the county dump.” “Well, I guess that’s special,” she quipped. “Yeah, I guess so.”

I’ve made a temporary decision to take the day off after spending all of yesterday raking and piling limbs from our share of hurricane winds. Late yesterday someone came to cut up and move to a brush pile a 60-foot-tall green ash that finally gave it up late in the seven hour period where Ike hammered those of us on the western side of his eye. Having just spent the better part of 30 hours over the first 10 days I was back in Leon County pulling weeds from everywhere in my garden, I doubled the size of my burn pile as I collected fallen limbs in very welcome moderating temperatures—a preview of fall in this part of the world, and no doubt, a welcome respite to the hundreds of thousands who are without power, yet trying to make it in their homes, those who still have homes, unlike the residents of the coast. Yesterday, the mayor and city manager of Galveston advised the 20 or so thousand who did not flee Ike to “Please leave…the city is in ruins”. Dear God, yes, it is a day for celebrating, for some of us. For many thousands of others, not so much, perhaps. Yet many whose lives were spared, even though they might have lost every earthly possession they own, are giving thanks.

So, yes, today is a big day for me. It is my 65^th birthday. I’ve had coffee with my oldest sister, a long phone conversation with my middle sister, phone calls from old friends far and not so far away, and birthday cards in the mail. Even though at times I wonder if I’m melting down, I am able to collect my thoughts once in a while. I have a roof over my head—two, in fact—I’m able to sit up and take nourishment, as the saying goes. So far, I’m able to keep the wolf away from the door, and even better, able to give some of my time and resources to others. All it takes is logging on to the Internet or switching on cable network news or a conversation with just about anyone I know or meet to understand emphatically that I am blessed. And though I remain without a mate, having passed the 22^nd year of being officially on my own, I remain hopeful that somewhere out there someone special is getting ready to walk this journey with me.

On My Birthday—Normangee, Texas (September 16, 2008)

R. Harold Hollis