On 31-32, Gratefully

04/09/2008 6:26 AM – 7:01 AM

And so it is my birthday: happy birthday! To me! 2 to the 5^th power! For some reason, a discussion of birthdays came up yesterday at the store (I did not mention that mine was today) and Nora (my store boss) said that she didn’t really celebrate them anymore, which I was more than half-inclined to agree with but then Sarah the Volunteer laughed and said, “Oh no! At my age, I’m grateful for every year more I get!” She’s 82.

I like Sarah’s response more. The cynic in me is satisfied by the fact that such a response is so thoroughly humble as well as being so happy. And so at 32, I am grateful for my 31^st year. I just did my taxes and it was the most money I’ve ever made in one year. I’m grateful that I finally learned how to work. I’m grateful that I have bosses that encourage me in working. I’m grateful for the cool and funny kids I work with. I’m grateful for those few really wonderful patrons that make being nice feel really good. I’m grateful that I learned the happiness and suckiness of running and that I’ve started it up again even earlier this year.

I’m grateful that I survived my panic attacks and did, in fact, learn from them. A lot actually. I’m grateful that the new novel is going well. I’m grateful that the student loan people finally caught up with me and it didn’t suck nearly as much as I thought it would. I’m grateful for my family, far away though it is. I’m grateful for my friends, scattering further though they might be. I’m grateful for email and blogs. I’m grateful for Wikipedia and Google. I’m grateful for bourbon and hoppy beer and pot. I’m grateful for fat, sugar and salt. I’m grateful for boobs. I’m grateful for unexpected and unrestrainable laughter. I’m grateful for learning humility once again in how little we can know and how wonderful it is to love, even if it doesn’t come right back. Perhaps that was what Koheleth was talking about when he talked about casting your bread upon the waters. I’m grateful for the dark days that make the bright ones euphoric. I’m grateful for empirical studies of happiness even if I don’t know how useful they’ll turn out to be. I’m grateful for those few scattered writers who can write and make the world into a funny serious wonderful mysterious hard meaningful loving place to live. I’m grateful for God, even if he won’t show up in my room and tell me that everything is going to turn out really, really well. I’m grateful that I learned what it means to hope for something that you can’t quite convince yourself is true. I’m grateful that I’m still alive and happy at this little moment. I’m grateful for the blue sky and the yawning morning. I’m grateful for my cup of coffee and my pouch of tobacco (even if the smoking of said tobacco makes me cough up really disgusting things – I really must quit soon). I’m 32 and I’m grateful for that. A whole ‘nother year to wonder and act and see and hope and love. Yeah - faith, hope and love – these are what I am most grateful for this year, I think. Well, those and boobs of course.