This is life

Posted by Marc Hodak on July 11, 2007 under History | 4 Comments to Read

My dad was the first to call this morning to wish me a happy birthday. I figured he was the first person to wish me that when I came into the world, but he reminded me that things were different then. The father typically paced the waiting room until a doctor came out to announce, “Congratulations, it’s a boy.” After a while, the dad would be taken to a window behind which were an array of newborns that all looked much less like him than his bald, crotchety Uncle Saul. My case was complicated, my dad told me, by the fact that the doctors found the umbilical cord around my neck, and had to cut my mom to get me out which, at that time, was still a serious operation.

In contrast, when my big guy was born on this same day 18 years ago, I was in the operating room to see him emerge. (Like me, a generation earlier, he decided he wouldn’t leave his mother without a scar for her trouble.) So, like every year since, we wished each other a happy birthday.

Actually, it’s birthday week. My best friend was also born this day, and my wife on Monday. I took her out then, and she’s taking me out tonight. Neither of us is that into growing older, but I always remind her that it’s better than the alternative.

Which reminds me of the lady who brought me into the world. She was a 22 year old girl when the doctors cut her. Year’s afterward, she often showed me her scar to remind me of the day I started causing her trouble–probably the weakest attempt at Jewish mother guilt I’ve ever seen. No doubt, the biggest trouble I caused her–also no fault of mine–was my near death due to illness just a few months after I was born. The doctors plainly told my parents that my survival was a miracle. My dad, who was hunted by Nazis as a child in France, probably took it as just another bit of good luck in an outrageously lucky life, but event clearly traumatized my mom. I believe it contributed to her unadulterated sincerity every time she wished me happy birthday thereafter. I’ve missed her calls very much these last few years.