On this date nine years ago, the first cloned calf,
”
Mr. Jefferson,
”
was born. Back in 1923, an archaeologist opened the tomb of King
Tut on Feb. 16. In 1959, Fidel Castro was sworn in as Cuba’s
president/dictator. And in 1979, the album
”
Saturday Night Fever
”
won a Grammy.
On this date nine years ago, the first cloned calf, “Mr. Jefferson,” was born. Back in 1923, an archaeologist opened the tomb of King Tut on Feb. 16. In 1959, Fidel Castro was sworn in as Cuba’s president/dictator. And in 1979, the album “Saturday Night Fever” won a Grammy.
It’s a very important day in history.
In addition to longtime San Benito County Clerk John Hodges celebrating his birth today, tennis player John McEnroe, rapper Ice-T, the late Sonny Bono, and Ward Cleaver himself – actor Hugh Beaumont, actually – were born on Feb. 16.
Many of you will also remember that Czechoslovakian monk and composer Bohuslav Matej Czernohorsky was born on this date. Fewer still will remember that it’s my birthday.
It’s really not fair to put out such a reminder about my special day, since I have the advantage of such a public forum, both in print and on the Internet. But it’s my special day, so there.
I remember writing a column a decade ago about turning 28 and how old that made me feel. I also remember my newspaper colleagues ridiculing me for complaining about being so “old.” But at the time, it was the oldest I had ever been.
Ten years from now, when I’m turning 48 and my children are in their 20s, I’ll look back and remember the good old – or young – days of my late 30s. I need to enjoy this relative youth while it lasts.
Consider my thought process:
I’m just nine years removed from my 20s; ahh, that helps me feel better.
But wait, I’m just 12 years from 50; aaah!
I’ve got all my hair. That’s good.
But the hair in my goatee is turning gray. Not good.
I can still play city rec basketball and softball and a reasonably competitive level; it keeps me young.
I wear two ankle braces and a knee brace when I play basketball; that makes me feel and look old.
My chosen combination of teaching and parenting helps me feel young while it greases the skids toward old age.
Hanging out with high school students five days a week can be energizing. They alternate between talking about their plans for college and their plans for the weekend. They laugh; they listen to music; they text; they eat candy.
Some days they keep me feeling young; other days they age me – like when they tell me one of their parents went to school with me.
Some of them ask me to write letters of recommendation for them, hoping that I can string together some words that will help them get a scholarship. Others ask why they can’t bring in the “Guitar Hero” video game to play in class.
At home, while I desperately hold on to any vestige of my youth, my older son grasps for adulthood, unaware that these days of little responsibility will pass too quickly.
He attended his second junior high dance yesterday in a gym that’s maybe 50 feet from the classroom where I used to read to him as a second-grade parent volunteer. Woah, there I go feeling old again.
I don’t want anything special for my birthday. I’m hoping for some ribs and garlic bread from Maverick’s, an ice cream cake from Baskin-Robbins, and some laughs with my family.
And maybe someday, I’ll be as revered as Bohuslav Matej Czernohorsky.
