I wrote this for our youngest daughter Olivia on her golden birthday in 2006. She was a remarkable child, and is an equally-remarkable young woman today at 24 years old.
This is available in my first book, “Chocolate Cows and Purple Cheese and other tales from the homefront.”
Happy birthday, Livie.
September 11 will always and forever be a happy day for me.
That sounds strange to most people, understandably, given the sad events now inextricably associated with the date.
But I don’t say it to shock or awe. Rather the day will be – is — special because it is our youngest daughter’s birthday – and more so this year because it is her golden birthday.
Ever since the attack, Olivia has had to endure the mostly-innocent, yet still-pointed questions and comments about her birthday that only kids can pose — along the lines that the day is somehow cursed, as is she, by extension.
But as we’ve told her, she came along six years before the tragic events that now identify September 11. So it has always been a special day –and for much happier reasons – for us.
Olivia was our planned child.
My wife insists that our eldest daughter, Emma, was an accident, the result of her forgetting to take her birth control during a very busy time in our young marriage. I figured my wife just figured it was time and didn’t bother to tell me. I no longer debate the point. Knowing when to give up an argument is the better part of valor in marriage.
Either way, the clock was now ticking, pun intended.
We believed that siblings born closer together (eventually) develop tighter bonds. So we decided to have our second child as soon as possible.
Circumstances dictated a planned C-section delivery. So we were able to literally schedule Olivia’s birth – in the hospital by 6 a.m., have the baby by 8 a.m., dad back at the office by 1 p.m. at the latest.
Olivia has been a child of just such precision ever since.
She is very literal, making it frustrating sometimes to do anything that requires the suspension of disbelief or the application of metaphor or symbolism.
Watching movies or television programs, listening to certain songs, etc. can become a chore as we have to explain that the actors are not the characters, or that the singer may not have really done all the things that the lyrics suggest.
And she loves math, which can be particularly and especially vexing for a writer-father whose life is dominated by the other side of his brain.
Still, Olivia is one of the most creative people I’ve met.
She has started more unique businesses than any five Donald Trumps – painting and selling rocks, making and selling origami animals, decorating and selling wooden plant stakes, creating and selling homemade salad dressing, cleaning cars for a fee. (The “selling” is key – like all entrepreneurs, this kid likes the smell of money…)
Likewise Olivia loves art. She has taken up painting and drawing of every kind – water colors, tempura, chalk, pencils, ceramic snowmen and fish and holiday ornaments with her great aunt.
Then like a water bug flitting across the pond of art, she jumped to origami. Our home looked like a paper factory hit by a bomb. Then this past spring, after watching the Patrick Swayze vehicle “Ghost,” she fell in love with clay, and took a park district pottery course.
Like most parents my wife and I have often marveled at the differences in our kids’ personalities. And like most parents, we’re often baffled. We raise them the same, we love them the same, we feed them the same, etc.
Yet they turn out so different.
Perhaps the reason (at least partly) lies in their own relationship. Being second-born often creates challenges that first-borns don’t understand.
And it probably didn’t help that our eldest, upon meeting her baby sister for the first time, identified her with the only living thing she’d met that was smaller than her – a dog.
As she saw her mom holding the baby, our first-born said, “Can I pet it?” Not “her,” but “it.”
Like all second children Olivia has worked ever since to carve her niche in our family in her own way. Whereas her sister’s presence is known by default of being first, Olivia has had to stake her claim in life through sheer confidence.
She is, if only in her own mind, right as rain, in every decision she makes, no matter how far off the beaten path. Attitudinally, she can be 10 pounds of attitude in a five pound bag. Sometimes that’s a good thing. Other times, it’s enough to drive a saint to sin.
But that can-do attitude, that confidence, that charisma, that vim and vinegar, has already brought her a long way. And, I suspect, it will carry her through life in ways that those who doubt themselves can only envy.
So on her special day, we wish Olivia a happy birthday. You are very special to us, and for more than just the date of your birth.