My Father's Birthday Celebration

When my father's birthday on March 23 rolls around each year, I write him a letter. I honor his birthday by wondering what he would think of the current year.  This year marks his 122 Birthday. He moved on to another dimension on November 22, 1977.

Last evening on March 23, we attended a celebration of butterflies at the San Diego Zoo's Safari Park.  Butterflies teach us the vitality of a short life and to live in the moment.  One must become patient to photograph their quickness.  After the amazement of following fluttering vibrance and the challenges of photography, we moved to a pavilion by the lagoon for dinner. Bats flew in the rafters, whistling ducks and white pelicans cavorted in the water for our entertainment.

We dined with three generations of nature lovers.  The gentleman seated next to me celebrated his birthday. His mother (93 years young), sister and son with their spouses rounded out our table.  Enthusiasm circulated in conversation around the table with a variety of topics and discussions.

Butterfly hearts

My father would have loved the intergenerational exchanges with various perspectives. Eight individuals who had grown up in Connecticut, Idaho, Los Angeles, and spent time in San Diego united on a common theme of a birthday celebration.  We didn't agree on all topics but offered creative ideas and solutions when an issue didn't meet a personal view.

The evening reminded me of many gatherings where my father had interacted to quell stormy conversations using humor and possibilities.  He could light up a room without calling attention to himself or listen to a cab driver and by the end of the trip know his life story.  My father loved to tease out the best in those he moved among. He would shine their strengths back to them.

The internet, i-pads, tweets, and cellphones would have held my father's fascination. Yet, one evening spent conversing with diverse individuals who truly wanted to explore life would have amused him more. The difficult part of missing those who have died involves a sadness because they cannot share with us simple experiences they would have loved the most.

I write to my father today not of the chaos of the world nor the presidential race ahead.  I don't focus on world affairs gone sour.  All would intrigue and he'd have solutions.

With a fountain pen he treasured, I write in peacock blue ink details of the family we met after our butterfly encounter.  I can hear his chuckle and see the dimples as he smiles.

Happy 122!



Creative Write:  Write to a relative or friend no longer with you. Share an experience that would make them smile and laugh.