Not the one yesterday, of course.  That went just fine, thank you.  Two hours at the office, five hours at the golf course, and an hour at a restaurant accompanied by the female remnants of my family.

The highlight of the meal was the following exchange with the server.

Me:  “When she (Daughter) ordered, did she use the term ‘slab of meat’ when referring to her selection?”

Server:  “Yes.  Yes, she did.”

You see at some point I have to hold Daughter accountable for her random declarations of factual intent — “I’m not hungry, but I’ll go out with you since it’s your birthday” — which, last night, was almost immediately followed by her literally inhaling a steak in about three minutes.

I probably took as much pleasure watching her eat a hearty meal (of crow) as I did ingesting my own tasty selection.

It’s a low bar, I know, but I’m comfortable with it.

You see, as far as I’m concerned, as I age I really try to appreciate that fact that an awful lot of folks in this world don’t make it to their mid-fifties.  Far fewer are still able to run, play basketball, referee soccer, and enjoy treating their families to biting, sarcastic humor on a daily basis.

A long time ago I came to the conclusion that living past a certain age (you can fill in the blank here) is a privilege, and I try to remember that.

So what if I can’t hear worth a crap these days?  I’m not interested in most stuff directed to me anyway, and as a bonus, losing my hearing really annoys the hell sh heck out of my family members.

But let me spend a moment relating a few birthday experiences from some of the formative years of my extreme youth.

I don’t really remember doing anything extraordinarily special on these occasions.  Many of my friends had “cool” parties, with activities like sitting in jet planes (father was in the Air Force), or visiting a National Park (father was a Cub Scout Master), or visiting an exclusive club to go swimming in their pool (father was an exclusive club member).

In comparison, if my Mom was feeling really ambitious, she would organize a trip to the bowling alley.  More commonly, however, we would hang around the house and play some cheesy games at home, before breaking out the birthday cake and ripping open presents.

It was fine.  Really.

But most of my birthdays as a kid featured one consistent hallmark:  I would usually inadvertently break or destroy a favorite present at some point during the day.  For instance, I used to be a Matchbox Car Fiend (MCF).  So much so that I still have my stash hidden around the house somewhere today — it’s really hidden well because I have no idea where the cars are right now — but I do have them.

Guaranteed.

I can remember receiving several Matchbox Cars one birthday, and before the day was done I had accidently sat on two of them, causing a lot of permanent damage.

And then there was that other birthday when I received a really neat sectioned bamboo fishing pole that came in its own carrying case!  I was so proud of that one that I slung it over my shoulder, hopped on by bike, and rode up the street to show one of my friends.  About halfway there — you guessed it — the whole thing somehow became entangled in the rear wheel and was shattered — as was my fragile youthful psyche.

Interestingly, the innate inability to keep any personal possession intact and undamaged has haunted my to this day, in various forms.  All my cars have dents, my clothes tend to get stained rather easily, and I seem to be fighting a losing battle keeping our house in somewhat decent shape, as all the subsystems here are somewhere in the process of completely failing.

It’s a life.

However, one of the benefits of Middle Age and Getting Older is that most things that used to bother me just don’t that much anymore (except for morons, in all their permutations).

It’s not that I don’t care.  It’s that very few things Muggles tend to get upset about are really important in the end.

So what is important to me, you might wonder?

Well, for starters, finding that damn Matchbox Car collection.

Because I know if my hearing is really starting to go, my mind is soon to follow.

And that’s something to look forward to, as well.

Just think about how annoying I will be to everyone around me when I can neither hear nor think!

Nirvana.

– Dad