Today is my son’s birthday. “Did you jump and have cookies?” was my toddler Rocker’s greeting to his Daddy. His little body was sailing jubilantly towards the ceiling, jumping on the bed as his Dad came home from the hospital. Bob would always begin the transition to home by taking off his tie and recounting his day to his young family. The Bride would invariably ask, “Who did you see who hurt demselves Daddy?” But the persistent younger brother would want to know just how much fun exactly did he have that day. Intuitively he knew, if work was fun then it wasn’t work at all. He was born in the middle of a heat wave in the Berkshire Mountains. Gladiolas were in bloom. While I was dreaming of flying on a trapeze at the Big Apple Circus, he began his descent into the Big Top of Life. He was loud and lovely, a delicious baby boy in every way. The kind you want to pretend to eat his arms of corn on the cob. I called him my perpetual motion machine. A baby who never looked back – who would let go of my hand and walk decisively into danger; an open stairwell, pre-school, or the ocean, it didn’t matter. Just as long as he kept moving. His Native American Indian name was, “Boy who ran before he could walk.” He took to the ocean like a knife cuts through butter, another metaphor he used about snowboarding. Rollerblades, ice skates and sticks littered our front hall. Anything to make him go faster. Summer beach birthdays included everyone at the beach, and one year we all wore Groucho masks! Maybe this is why he loves performing? His middle school haiku of note? “I love the summer, The summer is very hot, That’s why I like it.”
- First job – Lifeguard
- First school award – Writing
- First love – the holy Guitar
The guitar that he rarely put down. One August day he was searching for lost treasure on the beach during a birthday treasure hunt, and then the next he’s playing in front of thousands at Lollapalooza when the crowd sings Happy Birthday to him. A loving and generous young man, one who was never afraid to hug me in public, he is always willing to help the next person coming up. “He’s living the Dream,” as Bob likes to say. The Rocker found out the secret to life, how to jump and have his cookies too.
Lovely post, Chris…
Thanks Peg, for some reason thinking about Dave makes me want to write poetry. I’m enjoying your blog too – it’s the stories about food that reel me in.
I love your blog. It describes a wonderful boy that turned into a wonderful man .
Thanks Ellen. I miss him so much. He’s pretty lucky to have you and your amazing daughter in his life! Hugs and please give him a big birthday smooch for me.