It's All Been Done to Death

"Happy birthday, you!" Oh, and it's another day and another friend, so "Happy Birthday, you, have a great one." Oh man, this is endless. Yes, you were born, and today's your birthday. Hasn't it been done pretty nearly to death?

All these years you've been passing the time, enjoying regular meals. A little this, a little that. Cereal products, different cuts of meat, occasionally grilling. It's nice to see it on the plate, of course, and then you down it and it's all gone. What a lovely memory, unfortunately fairly boring to me.

Your life of growing up was oh so fascinating. You lived in a town much like other towns, or a big city, with challenges of its own. I had an upbringing too, with dear old dad working all the time and mom working as well, raising us kids. I guess my own experiences fit in with many others, which, to a certain extent are quite mundane.

School's one of those constants in life. You had Mrs. Smith in Kindergarten, Miss Jones in 1st, and so forth, right up the list, and those were great memories. But think about it, they're cut and dry, common, run of the mill stuff, basically tedious.

College is even less interesting, except for the experiences you might've had going crazy, which I'd leave out if I were you. Just say you showed up for class, did your work, kept your grades up, and eventually graduated. Yes, it's 100% boring, but some things don't need to be said.

In there somewhere you've had a few love interests. They've come and gone, as is true for the rest of us. When we come to sex, that's one of those areas like college you're not going to talk about. But even if you were to talk of it, we already know the basic moves, and definitely the way it ends. Every animal in the street could tell the same precise story, not even slightly interesting unless, and this is a biggie, you're getting revved up for next time.

Maybe you got married, maybe you had kids. Enjoy your wedding pictures while you can. Someday they'll look outdated. Your mustache will be out of style, your glasses will seem quaint, the colors will fade, the minister's toothy grin will seem out of place.

I like religion, except... so often the story ends the same way, trite, overdone with weird zeal or the lack of zeal. You walk into a church, virtually any church, and you say, "You gotta be kidding me! This is all it amounts to?"

Finally, there's death itself. You've lived all your life for this, your big moment. Even death, then, can be done to death. You're in an accident, you're decapitated, at least that's mildly interesting. Still, what a crappy driver you were. If you didn't know how to handle ice, you should've stayed home. Or you get a typical disease, which, even though there's tons of agony, you might've avoided. Or you have whatever, and you're laying there in the hospice room, listening to the soothing music, and you die. Just thinking of it's about to kill me, from boredom. Move to the Middle East, let them cut your head off. Then you'll have a story to tell.

Happy 90th Birthday, Horst!

One of our dearest friends, Horst, recently turned 90 years old! The big 9-0. Time to look back, for sure, and a time to look ahead to all the great years to come!

For Horst everything is getting better and better. Now he has lots of time on his hands at the nursing home, and that can be a kick.

In the long-ago far-off days of youth, Horst never dreamed he'd live to be 90. He was a handsome guy (still is), and all the girls had a thing for him. Especially one girl, the girl he would marry. (But more about her later.)

Take a look at Horst on their 30th anniversary. He's pictured here with his dear wife, Edna. (Unfortunately, Edna had to be cropped out because we wanted a uniform format on this page.) They not only look happy, they were.

Gettin' Better 'n Better in Every Way

At 90, Horst has nothing too much to worry about these days, just to take it easy and try to stay out of the nurses' way. Edna passed away a few years ago, and that was sad. But Horst's family made it much easier for him by having the newspaper print a poem, which read in part:

God broke our hearts to prove
He only takes the best.

What would people get Horst for his 90th birthday? Well, turns out there were all kinds of things he'd probably like. Like this "Footprints in the Sand" decorative thing. Horst's surprise comment on opening this gift: "What the hell is it?"

Of course, a singing bird clock is a gift idea that can't miss, whether your intended victim is young or old. And so it was for Horst. His comment after opening this gift: "What the hell do I need this for?"

And these days, the Boogie Blade is very popular as a gift item. It's kind of like the Boogie Bass (singing fish) or the Billy Bass (another singing fish), but this is not a fish nor does it have anything to do with birds, but it's a singing and dancing windshield wiper! Anyway, it was an obvious choice for an old guy like Horst, whose eye is just naturally captured by something so novel. Horst's comment on opening the Boogie Blade was touching: "What the sam hell — ?"

There was music and ice cream, and quite a few cards.

A nurse asked Horst, "Do you know how many people are here?"

He said, "200?"

"No," the nurse said, "50!"

Horst's beautiful reply: "That all?"

Horst, we know this is a happy time for you, with 90 Big Ones under your belt! Our sincerest wish for you is just this: May you have another 90 and then some!

---------------------------------

Note:

This post is from a webpage I had in 2000. It was based on a party I had recently gone to for a 90-year-old guy I knew. The guy's name was Fritz, but I changed it to Horst. Fritz actually said, "What the hell do I need this for?" when he opened the bird clock. And the line about how many people are here -- 200? No, 50, That all? -- is a true detail. I didn't include it, but Fritz thought he was either 100 or 110.

The formatting had to be different from the 2000 website. Here's the animated gifs I had of Horst at 90 and the Boogie Blade. The Boogie Blade originally had a soundtrack of snippets of various rain songs. I worked on the 30th anniversary picture with Photoshop to try to make him look around 90.

To learn about the actual guy in the pictures -- Elbert Macy -- see my post at THIS LINK.

Closing Out September

I'm closing out September with a few trifles. 30 days hath September, and today's the day it hath them!

I spent most of September on other projects -- note to self -- hence my lack of posts here.

It was actually one project, involving photography, and it's amazing how consuming it was for me. But it had a definite lifespan. I can't say I didn't see it coming, because I felt it coming as sure as anything.

Most things that I become extremely interested in like that have a lifespan. The arc is natural enough, starting with my first discovery, my first steps, a few tentative moves, then I become more interested. Soon I'm an old hand, showing what I have, in this case thinking I have a real eye for it, and I believe I do. Now I'm evaluating it, but only periodically, thinking occasionally of the vanity, yet persisting in ever new variations of participation. Midway through, I'm really able to produce, like the long distance runner. There's still enough avenues to run down, so I'm thinking I'm doing something useful, but the nagging in my mind is getting louder all the time: Why? I keep going, I double down on my efforts, I set goals and meet them, and soon I'm such an old hand it's like I've been doing it forever. I'm established, I'm even respected. But I start seeing the arc as an arc indeed and know that I'm getting toward the end. I make a resolution: I'll just be this interested in it, self limiting. Except I know that will never work. Because when I've pierced through to the full realization of the vanity -- knowing its true worthlessness -- I start casting about for something tried and true, something that does have value to me.

That is a funny paragraph, and every word is true!

The good news about a life pursuit like this is that I didn't make a large investment in it. I didn't make any commitments. There's nothing I have to be ashamed of. No one got hurt. And it was even kind of fun, while also serving as a cautionary tale to me about whatever my next consuming interest is, to look for the arc early on.