It sucks because I can never just have it be a joyous thing. Like Mother’s Day, Thanksgiving, and Christmas, the kid’s birthday is a complex affair for me, and probably others.
He turned nine, which means that one of the worst days of my entire life happened nine years ago.
So, it tough being in a celebratory mood.
Having said that, I just wrote that I try – as best as I can – to shield the boy from what I can. This is no different.
I had his friends over for a pre-birthday party of sorts because it was Diwali this last Friday and his school was closed so that was fun.
Then we met up with the ABFF for a dinner of gyros and chix sandwiches (that was his choice).
Then we had a proper party with his friends and, just like last year, the Firecracker baked him a homemade cake with homemade frosting – low-carb(-ish, because I’m not a complete monster).
I don’t think he knows how hard I try to seem fine on his birthday.
That’s a good thing.
Pic from last year.
Location: earlier today, sleeping on my sister’s couch in the burbs
Mood: nostalgic
Music: I’m just tryinna make it last (Spotify) Subscribe! Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
Almost exactly 11 years ago, on August 6th, 2013, I went with Alison to a cafe a few blocks south of me called Pier 72.
We went there a couple of times but, really, hardly ever went there because it was a bit older than other joints in the area, but the food was good, the people nice, and the prices pretty cheap.
I don’t think we went there again after that; well, she didn’t, for reasons you already know.
I did because, when she was sick and losing all that weight from the chemo, she turned to me one day and said, randomly, “I could eat a patty melt.”
So, I asked her what that was and she told me.
Then I ran to Pier 72 because it was certain it would have it.
I was wrong.
Him: Sorry, we don’t sell that here. Me: Please. It looks like this (shows him a picture). My wife…she’s…sick. She hasn’t eaten in days and I’m worried she’ll die. I can pay whatever you’d like for it. Him: (gently) It looks like a cheeseburger on a sliced bread. I can do that for you. Me: Yes. Please. I mean, thank you. I’ll pay whatever you think is fair. Him: (shaking his head) It’s a cheeseburger on toast with onions. Just pay what we charge for a burger. Don’t worry about it. We’ll make it for her.
Went there a few times after that, always getting a patty melt and maybe a Reuben for me. Alison only ate a little each time.
It was a kindness I’d never forgotten. It was one of the only things Alison would agree to eat.
The kid’s been asking to go for ages, and I finally brought him the other day.
We couldn’t sit where Alison and I last sat when it was Pier 72 because that became the cream cheese display.
So, we sat across from it and I looked at the corner of where we sat, almost exactly 11 years earlier and I could hear her voice in my head.
Something about the fact that I was sitting there with her son but not her hurt me in ways I can’t fully express nor explain.
Then the boy’s voice cut through my thoughts.
Him: I love the everything bagel! Can we come back here again? Me: (distracted) Oh…sure. Of course. Him: What’s wrong? You look like you’re crying. Me: (clearing throat) Oh, it’s the summer. Allergies, you know… Him: I’m sorry you have allergies, papa. Me: It’s ok. I’m always ok when you’re around. Him: Yay! Me too!
In the red bag that my mom brought to me while I was in Flushing was my Junior High School yearbook, that my sister found and told her to get to me.
The reason I was thrilled to get it was for one reason and one reason alone – I wanted to figure out the name of my English teacher.
See, the most influential teacher I had was a Ms. Meltzer and for years I always meant to find her and let her know that, but life got in the way.
Plus, I had no idea what her first name was.
But with the yearbook, I immediately looked for her and was disappointed to find that it only had her first initial was “B” and that led me – well, really, the Firecracker to a search and we found “Binnie Meltzer’s” obituary.
I’m certain it was her.
It made me both happy and sad; happy in that I found her, in a manner of speaking, and – of course – sad that I was too late.
She died in 2006. A lifetime ago.
She was the first teacher that I was always happy to see and that made me think that I had any type of talent for anything at all.
If she was still alive, I woulda told her what a profound and positive influence she was on me – I write because she told me once that I was a good writer and I believed her.
That’s the power of a good teacher.
Goodnight, Ms. Meltzer.
You were an amazing teacher and human, and I’m forever grateful we met.
On a much more mundane note, because of alla my injuries, my sleep’s been crap lately, so the Firecracker suggested that I get some nature – well, as much nature as NYC provides.
To that end, we had a little picnic in Central Park near Sheep’s Meadow, which was pretty great, I gotta say.
Her: Honestly, this is all I really need. My person, a picnic, a park, and my pup. Me: I could do without onea those things. Her: Oh, stop…
Location: supermarket for tea, which I forgot to buy despite it being WHY I WENT IN THE FIRST PLACE
Mood: annoyed at myself
Music: I got an open mind so, tell me where you wanna go (Spotify) Subscribe! Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
Him: But it fits! Me: Kinda. You’re definitely Brittney Spearsing it here.
Clothes that I just bought for the kid last year are already not fitting him.
I remember that, as a kid, I loved this yellow shirt with a red V on it. Wore it until my bellybutton was constantly out, all Britney Spears like.
Think my parents were just happy that I didn’t ask for new clothes, but I always think that Alison woulda wanted him to be put together so I try my best.
My best being a sliding scale.
(c) Getty Images
Him: Why don’t you ever show my face? Me: Because I don’t have that right. At least, I shouldn’t have that right.
Been enjoying my new gym – it’s interesting rolling with people from a completely new gym because no one knows my game and I know no one else’s game, so each roll feels very different than at my old gym.
Recently rolled with a very talented but smaller female. While I could have easily beat her, that wasn’t why I was there; I was there to get better.
Just because I can, doesn’t mean I should.
In a way, that’s why I don’t put up pictures of my kid where you can clearly see his face.
See, I grew up in a time where you could grow up in relative anonymity.
Never realized what a gift that was until YouTube because – MAN – did I do some jaw-droppingly bone-headed things when I was younger.
Legit, thank god everyone didn’t walk around with a video camera because I would most likely be hated by the world writ large.
In that sense, I feel that it’s not fair or right that I – as someone much bigger and much older than my kid – have the right to take away my son’s chance to be anonymous.
Just because I can, doesn’t mean I should.
He’s a little kid right now but little kids grow up to be adults.
When he is one, he might resent not being able to tell his own story his own way.
If you think about it, the thing that probably pisses you off the most is when someone else tells your story.
Janet? She’s such a slut. Did you hear last Friday, she…
Tom? He’s a loser. When we were kids…
That guy? Lemme tell you about him…
But I have to balance that with the fact that I’m proud of him – so proud of him – and what he can do so I wanna show him off.
And that’s really what it is with parents, isn’t it?
They want to show their kids off, not for their kids sake, but for their own. And that’s not right, I don’t think.
Just because they can, doesn’t mean they should.
So, my concession is that I blur or hide his face and name so that when/if he does want to have a public face/name, that’s his choice to make when he’s old enough to make that choice.
For now, I realize that, just because I could put up anything I want about him, I shouldn’t.
Me: One day, you’ll be old enough to decide who you are and how you want the world to see you. You and your friends are gonna be some of the first kids on the planet that’s lost that right to be a nobody. Him: (thinking) What if I wanna be someone? Me: That’s your choice to make. I’ve lived my life. I don’t have the right to live your life as well. You get to decide who and what you want to be. (pause) For what it’s worth, you’re always someone to me. You’re my most important someone.
Location: a pier with four lovely ladies – including the Firecracker – the boy, and a bottle of white
Mood: so. full.
Music: I just wanna be someone. Well, doesn’t everyone? (Spotify) Subscribe! Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
I’d been trying for months to see my family but my sister has been doing a lotta construction on the place so I haven’t seen them since Thanksgiving, despite their living in the same city.
But we recently got a chance to head over to wish my mom a Happy Mother’s Day.
Evidently, my mom’s bestie stopped by and dropped off some Greek pastries; the Firecracker never had any so I gave her one of my faves.
The below is a diple from my mom’s BFF – her daughter, Mary, told me the name, which I never knew.
Her: This is so good! Me: Yup, I grew up eating that stuff.
The very first place that I ate at in Queens when we first moved there and I was like eight or nine in the early 80s (!!) was a Greek joint called Fontana’s where I had my very first gyro.
I’ve had gyro/shwarmas all over the world but, to me, Fontana’s is what a gyro should taste like.
And the fact that Greeks like the Surgeon and Steel both agree says a lot – they were both competitive swimmers and they would also hit up Fontana’s whenever they were close.
Figured it was time for the kid and the Firecracker to give it a whirl, so we picked some up on my mom’s dime.
Ordered a pizza and gyros from the very same guy that’s been serving us since at least 1992.
My dad and I used to LOVE going there.
Remember once I had work out in Queens and he picked me up and told me to open the glove compartment with a mischievous grin; inside were two Fontana’s gyros.
I never eat there without thinking of my dad.
Wonder what will remind my kid of me?
Me: What do you think? Son: It’s soooo good! Is it a taco? Me: (laughing) It’s a gyro. But I get why you might think that.
This time, everyone came with their significant others, which was nice.
We all chatted about the earthquake and the eclipse…
…amongst other things.
Him: Logan always has some random fact. Me: This is true. Did you know that, when I was a kid, Cap’n Crunch gave away a plastic whistle that oscillated at exactly 2,600Hz, which was the exact frequency of NYC payphones so that if you blew one before a call, you could make free calls anywhere in the world? [ED: I misspoke, it was the frequency for all AT&T phones, not just NYC, because they ran a monopoly on pay phones across the country]. Her: How do you remember all this stuff? Me: (shrugging) I don’t get out much.
As that article I linked above notes, Apple – and the iPhone you’re most likely reading this upon – would not have existed but for the existence of that whistle.
I love these kinda significant but often unknown stories.
In any case, the dinner, and the conversation, was great, as usual.
The NFL Player and his wife went to Africa and showed us pics. It was all pretty cool.
The people sitting in the table next to us were also having a birthday celebration, so there were lots of rounds of, “Happy Birthday.”
Like I said before, there are worse ways to turn 51.
The next morning, I was getting the kid ready to go to his guitar lesson when I realized that I didn’t have my iPad…or even my bag.
Me: Shoot, I think I left it at one of the bars last night. I’ve gotta bring the kid to his guitar practice, can you ring up the bars and see if they found it? Her: Oh no! OK, I’ll call them.
Actually managed to stop by the first bar to see if they had it but they didn’t. And the Firecracker said that the bartender for the second bar wouldn’t be in until after 6PM, so there wasn’t much to do but wait and hope.
So, after I dropped him off, I walked back with another parent when we saw these people queuing for a movie giveaway.
Me: Let’s check that out? Him: Sure!
With that, I got the Firecracker both a tote and a hot chocolate, courtesy of the film, Poor Things.
Now, the thing about dating the Firecracker is that she’s all-in when it comes to holiday family activities. She has these annual traditions with her and her kid that she invites my kid and me to join.
Her: You should come, Lo. It’ll be like the trains you rode when you were a kid. Me: (grumble)
Invariably, they’re something that I thought about bringing the kid to myself but never got around to doing.
Well, turns out that there’s another holiday train thingy – her kid’s really into trains – that they would go on together, and that’s the Holiday Nostalgia Ride, where really archaic trains are taken outta storage and put back into service for a blast from the past.
So, after I picked up the kid from his guitar lesson, we dashed off to 145th Street to board the nostalgia train.
We arrived at the station with less than two minutes to spare and just made the train.
Gotta say, it was pretty cool.
The maps were the original old subway maps…
…as well as the old ads and old signs…
…even the old fans…
…and old wicker seats.
Now, while I found the whole thing pretty cool, one of the kids did not and had a meltdown during the trip.
The thing with dealing with her kid and my kid is that they both trade meltdowns – sometimes it’s my kid melting down, sometimes it’s hers.
Most of the time, it has something to do with the fact that they’ve both grown up as only kids and aren’t used to having to deal with another kid. Her kid is two years older than mine, so he’s had two additional years of not dealing with another kid to boot.
In any case, one of them had a meltdown this day so the rest of the night was less than ideal.
But then the next day, things were pretty much back to normal.
I suppose any relationship – adult or child – has to deal with some growing pains.
Here’s hoping we all work it out ok.
Oh, speaking of working out ok, I found my iPad!
The bartender at one of the bars I went to put it away for me.
Him: I looked inside and figured you’d come back for it. Me: You figured right, thanks man! NYC rocks. Him: (laughs)
That entry was a long time ago – I had just started seeing Alison then – and when I wrote that, my working at Times Square was almost a decade before that.
Well, when I went to see that Broadway show with the Firecracker, I showed her my old office.
Me: See that building there? I worked there for years. Had a perfect view of Times Square back then. And I lived just four blocks from work. I could wake up at 9:10 for a 9:30 meeting. Her: I’m so jealous! I can’t imagine that.
I can’t either, actually. That was almost three decades ago.
Did you know that, Cleopatra’s reign (ending 30 BCE) is closer to today, about 2,050 years, than to the construction of the pyramids, which were probably built about 2630 BCE, or 2,600 years before she started ruling Egypt?
In other words, when Cleopatra was born, the pyramids were already 2,600 years old/ancient.
In some ways, I look around the city and feel that about myself.
People think that I’m old with life experiences but they have no idea how old I actually am and how many different lives I’ve led.
Me: I took my bar review class there. Her: Right there? In the theatre? Me: (nodding) Yup. It was like a solid month, five days a week, for eight hours a day.
That’s the thing about living in the same place for five decades. There are old ghosts everywhere.
Everything reminds me of some possible past, whether I want it to or not.
Location: home, realizing I forgot to get the kid tickets to a show. He’ll be so bummed.
Mood: disappointed
Music: drop your drink, then they bring you more (Spotify) Subscribe! Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
Like, the Firecracker’s moved six times in the last decade.
Me: Wild. Her: Yup.
My college buddy and I moved into my current apartment waaaay back in 1996, but we ended up buying it in 2004, which is still almost 20 years ago.
Been here ever since.
Anywho, in November of 2004, we gutted one of the bathrooms ourselves and hired a contractor to fix it up, including putting in a new toilet and vanity.
We ended up buying the Kohler Rialto K-3386 for $349, which is roughly $19 a year, amortized across these 18 some years.
Now, the seat on that bad boy cracked so I decided to just swap it out – the first time since it was installed in 2004.
Welp, that started a long journey that ended up with my getting rid of the entire toilet.
See, the reason we got this toilet was because it was the absolute smallest toilet you could buy that was still mass produced.
BUT, because it’s so small, it had a special mechanism to attach the lid to the toilet. I did not realize this until it was too late.
Evidently, I’m not the only one.
I’m living in an interesting period of my life right now in that I’m aware that I won’t be here forever.
Figure that, at some point, this pad will be the boy’s and I wanna limit his frustration.
Was gonna buy the kit to replace the toilet but, having read up horror stories of people doing all that only to crack their decades old toilet, I just decided to toss the whole thing.
Enter my buddy Wally who said he would do it for free.
Him: Just the hands-on experience is enough. Me: Absolutely not!
I’m frequently surprised how many really lovely people I’ve met in my life, and he’s one of them, for sure.
So, last weekend, he and I discovered just how gross removing a 20 year old toilet could be.
Yes, this is super gross looking – that’s what bits of wax ring looks like over a flange after 20 something years.
One thing that we did was remove the old wax ring that seals the gap between the flooring and the toilet.
Him: Sorry, I got some on the floor. Me: Dude, no need to apologize, this stuff is getting everywhere.
What shoulda been like a two-hour project, turned out to be four hours because so much had rusted in place and needed replacing.
And at least three hours trying to clean up the ridonk mess. Ridonk.
Buuuuut, afterward, this is what my bathroom looked like.
It’s a slightly longer toilet – 27.5″ from the wall versus 25.5″ but it’s now dual flush and is probably gonna be good until I’m 70.
I’m aware the flaps are up on the bolt for the seat. Too lazy to retake this picture.
Then it’s the kid’s problem, not mine.
Boy: That’s so cool! Me: Glad you think so, kid. Him: I’m gonna watch YouTube. Me: (sighing) Yup.
It’s fate after almost 20 years of loyal service – oh, the ignominy!
Location: the kid’s BJJ class, watching him take an elbow to the face (accidentally)
Mood: panicked, not about the elbow
Music: I’ll be back home one day, before long (Spotify) Subscribe! Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
Me: Look, we just have to make this work for… Simultaneously: 40 years Her: Jinx! You owe me a coke. Me: What? That’s not a thing. Her: Yes, it is grandpa…
The Firecracker likes to poke fun at our age difference but I don’t really mind at all.
See, I wear it like a badge of honor.
Cause the ability to get old is a privilege. Not everyone gets that chance so I’m grateful to get to be an old man.
I think our lives go through a series of thematic changes.
Back when I was young and stupid in my early thirties, I thought that my debilitating insomnia and my breakup with the Reporter was the worst thing that coulda happened to me.
Looking back, I’m shocked how naïve I was.
During that time, my life was a dramady – some comedy mixed with some minor drama.
Speaking of Colin Hay, when I met Alison, I think that my life was still a dramady but definitely more drama than comedy, as we felt the weight of life as a young married couple.
We had our ups-and-downs but we were just trying to figure out how to have a life together. With a fatty of our own, somehow.
Always felt that, once we got the kid, our real lives would begin, that any minute now, our ship would come in.
But it never did.
It never occurred to me that I was living my real life until it was too late.
During Alison’s sickness, Lorde was huge because it was the only album I had on my phone and I was so busy trying to save her and our life that I didn’t have time to change it.
Still never listen to Lorde because it brings back such vivid memories.
Think I would throw up if I heard Pure Heroine again.
Jesus, I musta heard that album easily 200 times during the first four months.
I was so busy that I literally didn’t have a moment to download any new songs and it was waaaaay before Spotify.
Anywho, in the song, Buzzcut Season, there’s a line that goes, “It kissed your scalp and caressed your brain.”
Remember hearing that line and thinking that, even with Alison bald and stick thin, I still thought she was beautiful and I was so lucky to have met her.
Some days I’m built of metal, I can’t be broken But not when I’m with you You love me real, we have it all Can’t leave me now I love the way, you are today Run away with me now
Kept hoping it was all a bad dream, I’d wake up, and she I could run away somewhere with the boy and live the life we were supposed to live.
The years afterward were gutting for so many reasons that I’ll just keep my theme song during that time to myself, if you don’t mind.
But right now, at this moment, honestly don’t know if my life’s gonna be a dramady again, another tragedy, or something altogether new.
There’s a song by a fella named Mike Blume, who released his latest song under the name Whatever Mike for some reason, called In-Between.
The chorus goes:
I’m inbetween Right here where I want it Right here where I want it I′m inbetween
Dunno if the rest of the song is really super appropriate to my life right now but those few lines perfectly encapsulate how I look at my life right now.
I’m in-between alla these memories and hopes, life and death, happiness and sadness.
All of it. I’m in between all of it.
Somehow, it’s ok because it’s better to be in-between than toward the end. Nowadays, at least.
Nothing is as I wanted it to be, but I’m happy where I am right now.
Which makes me anxious because happiness is so rare for me. Then again, what is life, if not a tragedy fulla joy?
I think our theme songs changes with the years, so I suppose we’ll revisit this topic again from time-to-time.
What about you?
What’s your theme song?
Me: Why do you hurt me? Her: (laughing) If I don’t have old jokes, I have nothing here, Logan. Nothing!
Location: this afternoon, walking in the sun with Firecracker down Broadway
Mood: introspective
Music: I’m between, right here where I want it (Spotify) Subscribe! Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
