Would Have Been 99

Throughout most of my father's life, we celebrated his birthday on August 26. Perhaps when he first went to school and was asked for his birth date, the Jewish/Hebrew calendar date of his birth corresponded that year to August 26. We will never know.

In any event, when my father looked into his Social Security benefits, the records indicated that, in fact, he was born on August 1, 1909, As a result, for the years that Dad had left (which were far too few), we celebrated his birthday on both August 1 and August 26. Of course, in the years after his death, my mother, in her sadness, used to tell herself on August 1 that the birthday was on August 26, and then on August 26, told herself that his birthday had been on August 1. I don't know if this really worked for her, but we had the conversation about it every year (until she no longer remembered dates). Apparently the pain of remembering his birthday always was too great. For me, however, the two dates always have been an opportunity to think about my father, to remember his life and our relationship, to wish that he had been with us longer so that he could see how our lives developed (or are developing) and he could meet those grandchildren that he never met.

So this year, Dad would have been 99. I don't fool myself into thinking that he would have been a pleasant 99 year old (are there many?) or that he would have been in a mental or physical condition to appreciate and enjoy life. With his death at 73 (in March of 1983), he became "frozen in time" never aging. So, I get to remember him as an older adult, usually with a smile on his face, enjoying retirement and living his life.

Recently, in looking at all of the pictures we have of him, I have been able to add to my memory the visions of him as the young (albeit in his 40s and 50s) father to three growing children, and visions of him in his truly younger years, from grade school [Dad - what large ears you had:) ] through his years in the United States Army. Indeed, I have had the good fortune to read letters that he wrote home from Europe during the war, to see his "pass" to visit Dachau shortly after it was liberated, to appreciate more the fullness and length of his life that, while it was all too short (even more so as I approach his age), was longer than it might have been give the times in which he lived (World War II) and his medical condition (extremely high blood pressure). The more I read and the more I view the pictures, the more I appreciate his life and, as a result, my own.

So Dad, if you were here today at the age of 73 (what a pleasure that would be), I would first tell you that I love you, and I would shake your hand, give you a hug, look you in the eyes and tell you that you did well, you lived a good life, you raised a good family and that we, your children, have done well, in part because of what you gave us on so many levels, that you should be proud of how you served your family, your community and your country, that you were honorable and respected, that you had a "good name" in every sense of the word and that your have been missed, and I would l=tell you again, that you were loved. I also probably would apologize for all of the hard times I gave you - but I was just a kid!

With love on Dad's 99th Birthday!