Musings
an Online Journal of Sorts

By Alyce Wilson

Jan. 30, 2003: The Big 6-0

For the next several days, most of my energy will be consumed with final arrangements for my dad's big 60th birthday celebration this weekend.

The big 6-0.

Despite the scary proximity of those two digits, it doesn't seem to me as if my father is any older today than he was 20 years ago. Of course, maybe it's just because if I acknowledge he's getting older, it means I'm getting older, too.

But in many ways, Dad hasn't changed a bit since I first came into his life, all those years ago.

Dad still has a terrific memory, especially for useless facts. He always beat us at Trivial Pursuit, and today I'm ashamed to admit he knows more about today's pop music than I do. And more about current movies. And even though I edit transcripts for CNN, I can't stump him on current events.

This would be bad enough, but then there's all his medical knowledge, too. With all of this information crowded into his brain, it's not surprising Dad doesn't have much room for an ego.

Dad is still one of the least selfish people I know. So unselfish that if we'd asked him to pitch in money for his own birthday celebration, I'm sure he would have. But this time, at least, we managed to do it on our own.

Dad still works as hard as he ever did. His beeper goes off in restaurants, in the movies, and in church. It would have gone off at my brother's wedding, but we convinced him to turn it off. But no matter what hour of day or night he gets beeped, Dad doesn't get mad. Not even if it's mid-bite or mid-movie.

Dad is still as optimistic as ever. Not only does every cloud have a silver lining, but more often than not, he can't even see the clouds. How many times have I called him about a personal crisis, only to hear the sage advice, "Stop crying."

And the next thing, he always says, is to figure out what you can do about it.

Ever since I was a child, people told me I took after his side of the family. This is not something you say to a 5-year-old. I thought that one day I'd grow a mustache.

But as an adult, I know it's one of the highest compliments. If taking after Dad means that I have even a fraction of his intellectual curiosity, his perseverance, his optimism and his kindness, then I'm proud to take after my father.

Even if it does mean I'll grow a mustache.

Moral:
No matter how old you are, don't forget that your parents are even older.

Copyright 2003 by Alyce Wilson

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