Na na na na na na…You say it’s your birthday

September 11, 2001 is a date with a lot of national significance. It’s also a date with a lot of personal significance for me, because today is my oldest daughter’s fourteenth birthday. She happens to also be a Beatles fan, so my cheesy title get a little sentimentality sprinkled on top. I’m a sucker for that kind of stuff. I also tolerate chick flicks well, so it’s a wonder that I’m still single.

Six years ago my business was still newish, and operated completely out of the front room of my home. This meant, of course, that it wasn’t unusual to have the news on. Which meant that on 9-11 I was glued to the television. I was dumbfounded and angry. Then numb. And then…and then I remembered that my oldest was having a birthday at school right then and there. It was her eighth birthday, which for the unintiated is pretty important in the Mormon world. It’s the age at which kids are baptized, and my daughter had been very much looking forward to this birthday.

She came home that afternoon, and the look on her face said it all. “How was your birthday?” I asked.

“It sucked”, she replied.

A very to-the-point answer. She’s good at those. If it had been me, I probably would have said, “Like a shop vac, alternately sucking and blowing.”   But “It sucked” satisfied the need just fine, because as she began to explain, she had already realized that for pretty much the rest of her forseeable life, her birthday would be inextricably linked to a national tragedy. And it bummed her out. Big time.

For the following three years until the emotional tidal wave of divorce hit, she would start openly bemoaning how the news stories of the anniversary were popping up and ruining her birthday. As a young kid it’s hard to keep things in their proper perspective of course, and your birthday is supposed to be celebrated with songs that don’t come in a minor key.

Life is a cruel educator though, and with my divorce there was a lot to process. So this year I’m happy to say that there was no complaint of a birthday being ruined. Instead she made cupcakes to take into class for her birthday, ready to share “her” day with “our” day. She has grown into a fine young lady. I’m proud that at fourteen, she sees that the world doesn’t revolve around just her. Or at least not completely. Not bad for a teenager of today.

So happy birthday, kiddo. I’m a proud dad.