The Big Hawaii

Today is my Birthday. The big Hawaii, as in 5-0.

I was born via caesarian birth on the first day of spring. I have a tiny scar on my left shoulder blade to prove it. Today, such a scalpel slip would pay for my kid's college funds.  In 1962, my parents were glad I was alive. Stuff happened.

 I was born a poor white boy. My parents were LMC, but  I grew up rich in other ways.  In fact, I never felt deprived as a child. The house overflowed with love and if Mom gave me the stern "No" at the cereal or toy aisle, then that was just how it was. I ate peanut butter or bologna an drank Kool Aid with lots of sugar and turned out fine.

I did the normal stuff a kid did in the 1960's and 1970's.  Many of those tales I have related here. I was no wilder than most of my friends. In those days we weren't so concerned with self-esteem and nobody blamed the world if life treated you like a turd sandwich.  You got in fistfights in the morning and went bike riding with the other guy in the afternoon. Mom wasn't worried if you were gone all day because if you misbehaved the neighbor's Mom would beat your ass in her stead.

I coasted through Little League, through Cub Scouts and Boy Scouts and school. I went to college, married a fine women and raised three great kids. Life is good.


I have made fifty trips around the sun.  In my mind, I am at life's half way mark, Reality math says otherwise. I don't ponder the situation much.  Every day is a new day.


Since the weather is so fine, I think I am going to pull out my very best cigar from my humidor, the Ashton Cabinet that has aged the better part of a decade, and burn it in good spirits for lunch. Later, I might have some cake, and I suspect the family will gift me some stuff and some cards.  If not, I can live with that too.

I am mellow. I have fifty good reasons to be so.

"But Joe", you ask "What can we do for you?"  Comments, bunches and bunches of comments would be nice.

See how easy I am to get along with these days?