Celebration

Today is my baby bothers 14th birthday (even though he looks 17!) I remember when he was born, my junior year of high school. I was away at "All State" One Act Play UIL. The play title: Do Black Patent Leather Shoes Really Reflect Up? He chose to be born then.

I wonder now if my role as a nun in a high school play was really that important. I don't know. I didn't really regret not being there for his birth, but when I drove my car from the high school parking lot, after arriving on a yellow bus, very late at night- straight to the hospital just to see him- I felt very anxious.

And of course I barely made the maternity ward curfew; the time when all babies are collected from all mothers and put into the nursery for the night. But I did get to hold him for a few minutes and I was happy for that.

I lived under the same roof as him for one year. He has three older sisters, but he's very much an only child. My brother can do lots of things at fourteen, that I can not. He can drive a standard powered transmission (and has had ample practice on tractors and backhoes and jeeps.) He can drive a motorcycle too. Again, no surprise there. He's also an amazing pianist and has really developed his skill and talent. He can light a gas grill- and has been for years, something else I've never even attempted. This should should not raise question to the ability of my parents parenting. We were girls he's a boy....

That's why he could mow the yard with the riding lawn mower at six or seven and we had to wait until we were twelve. He knows how to prepare and cook his own hamburgers - when my mom's not around. Or, probably more accurately, when her squash casserole or broccoli slaw don't sound appealing. Now that the boys are the majority in my parent's home (2:1 vs 1:4 when I was growing up) my mom lets the men make the man food they require much of the time.

My brother is country and loud and a big personality. He likes the TV show The Big Bang Theory, jazz music, reading these massively huge paperback science fiction books and doing guy stuff with my dad: mending fences, mowing, going to sale barns, moving cattle from one pasture to the next, fixing things and breaking things in order to fix them. Today he's fourteen.

When he was born my two best friends and I called him Fresh Baby. And secretively, we still do.

....

And on the topic of Celebration, Saturday I worked as a volunteer for the 13.1 Manhattan in Queens. Many members of our church were running this half marathon to raise money for Rawanda. Those of us not running volunteered. I got up at 5:00AM on a Saturday and took the 7 train all the way to the last stop- Flushing Meadows Park/ Shea Stadium to stand outside in the windy cold to..........

hand out metals at the finish line!

It was the perfect race day volunteer spot; much preferred to working a water station or passing out cups of gator-aide. Those water stops can be pretty dangerous!

Our team of eight placed metals around necks of complete strangers while saying "Congratulations," "Way to Go," "Great Job," or "You did it" through wide grins. It was encouraging and rewarding and it never got boring--- even after 3 1/2 hours. When I finally got home and in out of the wind, with a chill I just couldn't shake, I was exhausted (train delays, weekend track work, local trains, transfers....) but thankful for the opportunity to Celebrate with so many strangers.

Just to see the look in their eyes of success, of accomplishment, of doing something really hard, of achievement- made it worth it. I think our team of Congratulators did an amazing job sincerely applauding every single person as they crossed that finish line.