This is just to send birthday wishes to a friend, fellow Cancer and supporter of my creative efforts.

Happy birthday, Frank!

thank you

with no guarantee,
life belongs to those who see
each day’s potential

*
I made a trek to center city yesterday to dispense early birthday wishes to Frank. While in route on the Schuylkill Expressway, the above haiku started to form in my head. After parking, I stopped in Rittenhouse Square to scribble it on a sheet of paper in my pocket, along with a slight note for Frank. In honor of the occasion, I wanted him to have the only handwritten copy.

The above haiku struck me as a pretty good toast to a man who certainly gets the most out of his days. Here’s hoping today (his actual birthday) is no exception. Happy birthday, Frank!

Pictured above are the nibs of three fountain pens. Clockwise from the top right they are a Diplomat, a Waterman and an Ohto Tasche. For those of you who don’t know, I happen to love a good fountain pen. It’s mostly due to the amount of writing I still do with pen and paper — it gets a lot easier when the tools are both durable and comfortable.

I purchased the Diplomat for myself back in the early 90s, while the other two were birthday gifts. Incidentally, the two that were gifts have performed consistently better than the one on which I spent my own money. I figure that’s worth mentioning, given the occasion — which could be any or all of the following:

• the 233rd anniversary of the first signing of the Declaration of Independence. I know people generally believe this to have happened on the fourth, but the initial signing actually did happen on the second.
• the exact midpoint of any non-leap year.
• my birthday.

“How is it I remember
knowing that I would live forever?
Isn’t it strange
how truth can change?”
– Toad the Wet Sprocket

Before I get muddled in contemplation, I want to send an acknowledgement to my mother, who, 36 years ago today, completed what probably remains to this day the most harrowing 28-hour stretch of her life. Not only that, but she did it without drugs. And at the end of that ordeal all she had to show for it was a screaming baby boy. But bless her heart, that was exactly what she wanted.

And so here I am.

I quoted the lyric at the top of this post for a reason. It’s one that’s been rattling around in my head since I first heard it over a decade ago – at a point prior to my realization that I wouldn’t live forever. Like many other people who were once young, I dreaded losing the illusory cloak of invincibility. I thought it would be so depressing to come to grips with such a passive-aggressive foe like mortality. Surprisingly, it hasn’t been.

To be honest, I’ve led a pretty charmed life. I’ve probably reaped a good bit more than I’ve sown. With the realization of life’s finite nature, I’ve been able to see this more clearly.

I’ve always been a melancholy person, but I don’t wallow like I did when I thought the world was owed to me and had the right to demand nothing from me. I appreciate more now, a trend I hope continues into the future.

dad turns 70,
reveling in a lifetime
and its memories.