70th Birthday

I miss my mother. I miss her especially today. It’s my birthday. I used to call her on my birthday and say, “Thanks for my life.”

She’d always hem and haw and say something like, “It was a pleasure,” but I know better. It couldn’t have been an easy birth. I weighed over 9 pounds, and she was 5’2”, and small-framed. I was the only child she ever had. She wanted more, and eventually adopted a little girl.

As kids go, I suppose I was easy to rear. I got good grades in school, and never made much trouble. I only got sent to the principal’s office once. During one of the bathroom breaks, I and some other boys stayed in the restroom longer than we should.

We knew we were dawdling, but we said to each other, “It’s the boy’s room. She (the teacher) can’t come in here.”

We were wrong about that. Mrs. Steele (an appropriate name, I thought) was about 50, and hard as…well, steel. She came bursting through the door, grabbed a couple of boys by their ears, and took them out. Everyone else followed quickly. We all got a spanking in front of the whole class, and we all went to the principal’s office.

After that, I peed much quicker than I can today at age 70.

Wherever you are, Mom, today is my birthday. Thanks for my life.