'I was a caesarean birth because my mother always liked that hairstyle.'
To-day is the 29th anniversary of my being born a day late. Although I'm not as far ahead in life at this age as years ago I thought I should be, I have the consolations, at least, that I still have no grey hairs, no sign of male-pattern baldness, no crow's feet, no ripening jowls nor dewlaps, no sagging paunch, and all my natural teeth, riddled with fillings though they are. (Knock on wood.) ;)
To-day is also the birthday of my maternal grandfather, who was born 99 years ago in a small town in Hungary. My parents and I will, of course, be driving out to visit him and my grandmother later to-day at their nursing home near Jarvis, and we'll likely have a celebratory dinner afterwards. I have to admit that I'm a little ambivalent about going; I'm not as close to my grandfather as many others are to theirs. He's always been very quiet and reserved, rather like me, and in spite of living in Ontario for 56 years his English is still hesitant and German-flavoured. Also, my mother's brother and his wife, and perhaps even one or two of my cousins might be with us, and I'd rather not see them -- at least not at any time this year -- because I'm so embarrassed by the fact that I'm now 29 and still haven't reached my goal of going to university.
I'd rather forego all that awkwardness and instead stay in Toronto to greet my friends returning from Feral!, and I was seriously tempted to do so, but I know that visiting my grandfather is the only right thing for me to do. I haven't seen him even once so far this year, and because he's now on the threshold of 100 he might very well not live to celebrate another birthday, even though he seems fairly well for a man of his age. The least that I can and should do is show him that I respect and care about him enough to be there to acknowledge his birthday and all that he's accomplished in his very long life, without which I most assuredly wouldn't be here to write this.
Anyway, here's to a happy birthday for him (I'll leave the birthday wishes for me to whomever may give them, if anybody), and to a 99th year that will be at least as full, joyous, healthy and prosperous as I hope his 98th was.
To-day is also the birthday of my maternal grandfather, who was born 99 years ago in a small town in Hungary. My parents and I will, of course, be driving out to visit him and my grandmother later to-day at their nursing home near Jarvis, and we'll likely have a celebratory dinner afterwards. I have to admit that I'm a little ambivalent about going; I'm not as close to my grandfather as many others are to theirs. He's always been very quiet and reserved, rather like me, and in spite of living in Ontario for 56 years his English is still hesitant and German-flavoured. Also, my mother's brother and his wife, and perhaps even one or two of my cousins might be with us, and I'd rather not see them -- at least not at any time this year -- because I'm so embarrassed by the fact that I'm now 29 and still haven't reached my goal of going to university.
I'd rather forego all that awkwardness and instead stay in Toronto to greet my friends returning from Feral!, and I was seriously tempted to do so, but I know that visiting my grandfather is the only right thing for me to do. I haven't seen him even once so far this year, and because he's now on the threshold of 100 he might very well not live to celebrate another birthday, even though he seems fairly well for a man of his age. The least that I can and should do is show him that I respect and care about him enough to be there to acknowledge his birthday and all that he's accomplished in his very long life, without which I most assuredly wouldn't be here to write this.
Anyway, here's to a happy birthday for him (I'll leave the birthday wishes for me to whomever may give them, if anybody), and to a 99th year that will be at least as full, joyous, healthy and prosperous as I hope his 98th was.