Published: April 03, 2008 08:08 pm            

STAN CHAMPER: The big day passed and a lesson was learned

Some of the guys I know still laugh about it. If the subject comes up now on those rare occasions when we’re together and reminiscing, they’re right there to remind me: “Buddy, you were this close to being a basket case.”

It was the occasion of my 30th birthday, and for weeks ahead of time I was in a deep, deep bad way — moping, reflecting, feeling altogether sorry for myself. “Look,” the guys would say, “it’s better than the alternative. Right?”

I wasn’t amused. At the time, precious little was amusing. I’d soared to the top of the mountain on the wings of Youth, and the specter before me now was an unhappy downward journey, an unexciting trip into Old Age.

I wondered if I was destined to follow in the shadow of my mother, a good-hearted soul who seemed to have a normal attitude toward the aging process until it landed on one of her Zero years — 40, 50, 60, 70.

These gave her fits. She wouldn’t talk about those birthdays. If it hadn’t been for a husband and kids who insisted on cake and ice cream, gifts, and a dinner in her honor, she probably would have pretended the day didn’t exist.

As time passed, however, it became clear I wasn’t fated to be a Zero sufferer like my mother. As time passed, it became clear that the only Zero in my life that would wreak havoc on my peace of mind was none other than the one in 30.

My terrible day passed, as I suppose I knew it would. I got up the next morning and the world seemed to be just as I’d left it when I fell asleep. I dressed and left the house, wondering what awaited me on The Other Side Of 30.

Fast forward five years to the darkness of an early morning in April. We were on our way to the hospital, and we weren’t wasting any time.

The emotion of the morning was so overpowering it’s a wonder I remember any of the details. Surprisingly, some of these are still crystal clear, and I suspect they will remain so forever.

For one, the doctor’s eyes. There in the delivery room, he kept glancing at me — concerned, analyzing, trying to determine if I was going to be a problem. He’d told me days earlier, “If you feel faint, you let me know.”

Many memories would follow, memories from The Other Side Of 30, and among these would be a host of recollections that would find their way to a special part of the memory bank reserved for those I call Precious.

There in that little corner of the brain are pictures of diapers and powder, baths in a little plastic tub on the kitchen table, a stroller moving slowly along Booth-Quillen Road on beautiful summer evenings.

There are pictures of day care, the first day of school, dance classes, guitar lessons, swim meets, prom dresses and boys in tuxedoes, high school graduation, and the cap and gown of a proud afternoon on the college campus.

And in a special place of that special place, a memory that looms above all the others — the miracle of birth on that day in April, a baby that has come into the world, being laid gently in her mother’s hands, and mine.

The time has gone by so fast. Tomorrow she too crosses that threshold that caused me so many problems, but she won’t cross it the way I did. She has a sense of comfort with how she fits in the scheme of things that’s far superior to what I had at her age.

I’ve learned a lot on The Other Side Of 30 about how life can be interesting and rewarding at any age, but I had to learn it by experiencing it. Unlike me, she has the kind of optimism that allows her to look ahead … and know this is true.

So, Happy Birthday tomorrow, Princess. Happy 30. And here’s to climbing mountains — forever and ever.

STAN CHAMPER can be reached at schamper@dailyindependent.com or (606) 326-2640.

        

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