It's my birthday. It isn't a big deal to me, which is growth considering I have been remarkably resistant to ignoring my birthday. It all stems from living with my father for a decade and him forgetting or pretending to forget my birthday so he can spend the money on something else. Money often given to him by my grandparents to go in on a bigger present.
And, sure it has taken 45 years or so to get past it. But I have. My "stoic" meditations have helped. I mean it happened, it hurt my feelings, but it's been over for a long time. There is no use bothering myself (and everyone around me) now. So yay me.
This is me at the Salton Sea, back before it died. I was with my grandparents and Martha. I begged my grandfather to take me out fishing. Apparently I lasted about 4 minutes before begging him to take me back to shore. I was not particular patient even then.
PS - If you look at my pants, they are preemptively patched in the knees from the inside. I used to stop pretty much everywhere from a run to dropping on my knees and sliding to a stop. And this was before soccer players appropriated it.
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