BIRTHDAY GAL UPDATE

This is going to be a short post. (Okay, I heard that sigh of relief…and your name is on the list!)

I have a bit of news to report on the birthday gal, AKA my blue-eyed progeny, Lacy B. (See previous post.) Jain at Bankside had asked if Lacy cried when she read the piece. The short answer is no, but the slightly longer answer is she might have done so if she'd been capable. Here's the story—although to spare my offspring a certain amount of embarrassment and myself a possible whipping, you'll have to fill in some of the specific details yourself.

Soon after I posted the piece, I sent Lacy a text message to check the blog. Lacy is a psychologist who works with children. Because her appointments are often stacked, she sometimes can't call back for several hours. So I wasn't worried when I didn't hear from her right away. I was sort of wondering, however, when I hadn't heard from her by dark—though I just figured she and Dave were probably having dinner out, to celebrate her birthday and his first day at the new job.

About 8:00 Dave called to say Lacy was desperately ill with some sort of stomach/intestinal virus and had been being sick for several hours, starting right after work and on the way home in the car. She was now to the point of being continuously sick. They both wanted to know what I thought about her going to the hospital's emergency care unit. I said that was exactly the right thing to do, given the loss of fluids. Plus I wanted them to be sure they weren't dealing with the H1Ni virus.

The upshot is that Lacy spent the remainder of her birthday in the hospital. By the time she got there, her veins were starting to collapse. She ended up receiving two units of fluids plus medication for the nausea. They discharged her a bit after 1:00 a.m. Some birthday.

Dave, of course, had to report to work for day two of his new job training. I know he couldn't possibly have felt up to par, considering his ordeal between the ER and the pre and post care at home. So I spent most of yesterday keeping Lacy company at her condo, and seeing she got more fluids in her. She was feeling some better this morning when she called before heading to work—though still not eating. According to the ER docs, this particular virulent virus is currently making the rounds locally. She and her neighbor/friend, plus two other women, all of whom had attended the same wedding shower Sunday afternoon, all came down with this same bug.

So…the truth is, I don't know if Lacy has yet to actually read the post I did for her birthday. Dave read it to her in the ER while the IVs were dripping. She might have cried…but probably not because of my words or literary talents; any shed tears were likely over how miserable she felt and the thoughts of the oncoming hospital.

I can't say I blame her. Aging can be hard on daughters and fathers.

P.S. Hope you're feeling much better this evening, Lacy. Now…GET WELL!

Love, Dad.

LACY B'S BIRTHDAY!

Lacy Baylen…

Today is my daughter's birthday.

She is my one and only child, and I love her with all my heart. Of all the many blessings I've been given in this life—blessings more wonderful and numerous than I could ever deserve—Lacy is the greatest. No father ever had a finer daughter…and no daughter ever filled her father's heart with greater pride, or his life with such joy. There is not a day goes by that I don't thank God for the gift of her in my life.

While some memories age and fade with time, others remain as sharp and clear as the instant they became etched into your being. I can recall holding Lacy within moments of her birth—a squirming, ruddy infant, impossibly tiny, who grew suddenly still in my uncertain grasp and stared back at me with blue eyes the exact same shade as my father's. I was instantaneously melted and transformed by a love so fierce and deep I would have done anything to protect her from harm. Walk through a wall of fire? Sure! Stand in front of an onrushing train? You bet! Step into a cage filled with hungry lions? Just swing wide that door! I was absolutely poleaxed by parenthood. From that second on I would have laid down my life in a heartbeat, paid any price to keep her safe and make her life better…and I still would.

Any man who says parental love shouldn't change him so fundamentally, has simply never opened his heart and soul, never allowed this new-born love to explode inside; never loved his child more than he loves himself. It ceases completely to be about you the very second your child enters the world. Or it did with me, anyway.

Lacy is named after my father. Her middle name is Baylen, which I invented…then made up a story to justify, which I told to her as a child, about an Irish princess of that name who lived in a magical world which lay somewhere between the fantasy realms of Wind in the Willows and The Hobbit, with a bit of Uncle Remus and Beatrix Potter thrown in for good measure. I don't think she was overjoyed at this one-of-a-kind middle name when she reached school age—but she now claims she's back to liking it. I hope so. And yeah, I'd probably do it again, though I'd give it at least one more day's thought beforehand.

We had a celebration for Lacy's birthday on Saturday evening, so she could have dinner at her favorite restaurant. But today is the actual day when the wheel resounds its annual click. That darling little girl is still blue-eyed, only now she's a lovely lady, a year shy of being a-score-and-a-half years old. And I'm sure she's thrilled I put that fact right here on Riverdaze for one and all to read! (Okay, I promise not to tell your age next year.)

Lacy and her husband Dave, at Saturday's dinner.

Dave starts a new job today—so along with birthday

wishes for my daughter, I want to wish my favorite

son-in-law good luck…and to say

how proud I am of him and his accomplishments.

Frankly, though, the way I see it, fathers ought to be allowed certain leeway in regards to recounting a daughter's birthday—because nothing makes a father feel older than watching his beloved daughter grow into a beautiful woman; birthday's remind us of the duality of time's passage, and how it can be both gratifying and poignant.

Not that time could ever lessen fatherly love and pride.

Happy Birthday!

I love you Lacy Baylen. I'm so proud of who you are and the person you've become. I am humbled by your accomplishments. You have enriched my life with more happiness and joy than you can imagine. Gave me a reason to live. Shared countless adventures, and hours of laughter. I treasure the memories past, and look forward to those ahead. No father has ever been more blessed. I wish you all good things and a long life where love prevails.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

XOXOXO

COUNTING THE RINGS

A few minutes ago I took a break from rearranging a portion of the woodpile to sit a spell and watch the river. It’s cool here this morning and the sky is filled with ragged clouds, so the light is constantly changing from bright to muted to dim. Perhaps this shifting illumination has contributed to my unsettled mood—set me on a path of pensive contemplation as I gaze at the brown water passing with scarcely a sound a dozen feet away. What secrets does this venerable river know? What can it teach me? More pointedly, what am I capable of learning? Am I open enough to receive such lessons? Sufficiently perceptive to recognize their wisdom? Time is like the river, ever-flowing, in constant passage. Which matters most—duration or distance? Does source set the destination…or is it all the shifting and turning, the pools and pour-overs and back-eddies, the influence of land and years through which we make out way? We travel unceasingly, blindly, sometimes racing, yet at times feel almost stagnant. What shapes and molds us? Is it darkness or light? Summer’s heat or winter’s cold? Before I came over and sat down, I took time to count the growth rings on a rough-sawn chunk of hackberry in the woodpile. Some were wide, others narrow, visible recordings of years forever passed. I thought it amusing when I realized that round of wood and I were approximately the same age. Of course the tree from which the small section of log came has already met its end—though it will finish in a literal blaze of glory next winter when I add it to a cheery hearth fire. Meanwhile, I will add another growth ring to my own time on earth tomorrow. Which of us, I wonder, has fared the best? When my own life circles are counted and considered, will I measure up? I hope so. I pray that I will have been strong and solid…and if I might be granted just one wish, that my final gift might be to somehow bring a measure of warmth to someone who needs it on a cold winter's night.