This Is (Almost) 40

**All props for this post go to my great friend Samantha Jones Harkins, who referenced this exact speech in her own blog. That post was waaaaaaay back, but it stuck with me and I felt I needed to revisit it myself. You should check out her blog too - because it is awesome and so is she!

www.irunthesetowns.blogspot.com

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So, a few days ago, I was thinking about this radio speech which was all the rage in the summer of '99. If you want to listen to it and get all weepy and nostalgic - or not - here it is:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I5NAPZp2w-o&feature=related

I lived in my very first one-bedroom apartment, the only time I could afford not to have a roommate. This foray lasted about 3 whole months, but I put in loads of time decorating that interesting space to be just perfect.  And I have an insane number of memories shoved into those 120 days, including this whole Sunscreen Song. (Why such a short stay? Well, let's just say the landlords were the neighbors and they were intrusive to the point of stalking my every move. Oh, well. You will have that, I guess. Until you decide to move out.)

Part of the "furnished" part of this apartment was a great old desk with a piece of glass on top, underneath of which you could lay out photos or concert tickets or newspaper cut-outs of the lyrics of the Sunscreen Song. I distinctly remember reading that list of things daily, through the murky old glass top. It was just the sort of thing for a 20-something college graduate with no idea of her future to think of as she drove around Morgantown's lazy summer streets, reveling in being aimless and young and free...and broke, shiftless, and (in hindsight) woefully cavalier about important life details. In other words, it was the epitome of what someone's early 20's should be. In my own, unscientific opinion.

But, for all that youthful meandering, the Sunscreen Song was pretty great. And for some reason, be it the sweat of the summer air or the smell of actual sunscreen, it popped into my mind some time ago and would not retreat.

I only now actually re-listened to it, and it surprised me in a sort of not surprising way how old I am now. All those references to being 40? Yes, that is almost me. All those ideas of what my future would hold at 40? Not so much.

I don't even know what those ideas were - but I can assure you, they were not my current reality. And not in a bad way. I suppose I envisioned something less stable and more ridiculous, with far different responsibilities. I am sure the time between then and now seemed a much further distance then than it does now. There are times when I feel 24, but know that the mileage on my soul renders me much older.

And it is great. I know, as the Sunscreen Song told me, that half of what has transpired in my lovely life is chance alone. I am thankful beyond belief for my good fortune. Yes, negatives did blindside me at 4:00 in the afternoon and they seemed, at the time, insurmountable. But I have learned that few mistakes are unfixable and each one will teach you something you did not know you needed to learn.

I wore sunscreen. I got to know my parents. I have more and more learned to respect my elders. I have danced and sung all along the way, literally and figuratively. I have come to understand that life is a marathon and not a sprint and it has released me. I have gotten tons of counseling.

And I have taken a few to look over my past, but not to the point of stupidity. And the best lesson I learned? Ironically enough, it came from a lecturer in a bar review course. (Which, if you know me, will sound like I may have early onset dementia. But bear with me.)  It went something like this:

           Don't look at taking the bar as something you have to do.
           Look at this challenge as something you get to do.
           You are lucky and privileged to be able to do this.

Right. About so, so many things in our lives. Me during the Sunscreen Song-era would not have gotten this.

I am glad I now do.

Dear One-Year-Old Baby Franco

(**Just to note that I wrote this in January, when Franco had just turned one year old, but have been tweaking it to get it perfect for this blog and will now publish for the world to see...)

Dear One-Year-Old Baby Franco,

You have now lived for one year. What a milestone! I'm fairly certain that in no other year of your entire life will you make so many drastic, dramatic changes. Sometimes it is mind-boggling to realize that a year ago you were getting used to breathing air, and now you are routinely doing things like this... 

     I am pretty sure that Gracie taught you this. It was kind of her trick first.

        The first few weeks and months of your life were kind of awesome. Your dad and I watched tons of hockey games and “Friday Night Lights” on Netflix during quiet evenings, holding you while you slept. During our days together, we napped and read “The Hunger Games” trilogy out loud and  listened to Skip and Stephen A. argue on ESPN and watched movies. Yes, some days were challenging when you acted grumpier than usual. But, that is true of everyone in every single person’s life, so why would I hold it against you?

        We traveled all over with you this past year and you proved a natural-born companion. We spent time in Alabama, flew to Arizona, went to a wedding in Wilmington, spent a week with yinz up in Western PA, partied in Ohio, and of course rocked our weekends in the Blue Lot at WVU football games, where you made friends with all the drunk 20-somethings who sit by us and who took pictures of you as you grew in between each game.  (And...as your Auntie Samantha pointed out, that is "not creepy" at all. HA!)  It has proven a wise strategy, as you are adaptable and up for an adventure at any time. You now go outside regularly  pointing to the car because you spend so much time there. 

We partied in the pool all summer with our friends and you loved it. You wore goggles and splashed and slept on the table in your car seat when you got too tired. I will always remember that summer as one of the best ever. There was (somewhat) less beer than in summers past, but the laughter seemed more meaningful and memorable.

I don't know about you, but this looks pretty comfy...

Old friends and family visited to shower you with gifts and love. You started eating solid foods in June and have never really stopped! Eating is a big time for you, so you fit in with the rest of the family for sure. Once, you ate an entire tupperware full of homemade mixed vegetables and awed all in attendance at the pool. You might have been a skinny little thing, but it was not for lack of trying! You love all kinds of foods and often regale us with your ability to put it away. As a result, we have that whole thing pretty easy and you are growing bigger and stronger every day. 

After Halloween (when you were a precious Elmo in a stroller) and Thanksgiving (when you ate pie and about eight plates of dinner) and Christmas (when you were spoiled beyond belief) we celebrated New Year's Eve by staying up with Kathy and Anderson and watching the ball drop and eating hot dogs with sauerkraut. It was not wild and crazy, but it was pretty great anyway.

What do you mean it's midnight? I'm just getting started here!

Then, it was your birthday!! Oh, what a happy time for us all. We did not have a big party and you did manage to fall and bust your lip on a chair, but that day was awesome. We ate about a pound of cake (a piece) and played and laughed and then you passed out, likely due to the massive amount of cake you ate. Then, your Daddy and Mummy watched movies together and held you while you slept, not unlike when you were first born.

Impressed? You should be!

What? For me?

A lot of times people will say, "Gosh, I can't imagine life without my baby!" (Which is silly because you don't have to imagine it. Life without the baby would look a lot like life did before the baby. Come on.) What I think people mean is this: it is hard to grasp that you have only just arrived. Once, I told your Auntie Rebeccah about something I did a few years ago and she asked, "Well, who watched Franco?" To which I responded, "He...wasn't born yet, you know." And she understood it was silly, but at the same time it was like...oh, it just seems like Franco has been here forever.

Because, it does. And sometimes I wonder if each year will seem the same or if this feeling will just pass with the rest of the phases. And that's okay too, since we are happy to have you move from this point to that. We will always be proud of you in each new milestone, and we will not mourn those times which are passed. 

Because we are not raising a baby. We are raising a man. And so far, we are doing a damn fine job, if we absolutely only ask ourselves and believe our own opinions on the matter. 

The secret just might be all that traveling. And lots and lots of cake.