105th Heavenly Birthday

Dear Dad,

 

These days on something called Facebook, people are wishing their deceased parents a happy Heavenly Birthday. (FYI, Facebook was just starting up the year you left us in 2007). Using their old Earthly Birthday as a reminder to keep in touch, give thanks, let people know how they still live on in us. Or would it be more accurate to say, “Happy 16^thHeavenly Birthday!” noting the number of years you’ve been gone rather than the 105 you would be had you stayed with us. (Not impossible! Our— Ginny’s and my— Zen teacher lived until 108!).

 

At any rate, you don’t look one bit older in the two photos of you on my desk that I greet every morning. One with you and Mom in Sausalito and the other of you and me playing cards, you kind of laughing and me smirking like my hand is about to beat yours. Likewise, the lovely painting you did back in 1963 of a canal in Belgium, probably modeled on a National Geographic photo, still hangs in our hallway as vibrant as it was back in our New Jersey home. When I pull a pair of pants off the back of my chair and coins fall onto the floor, I exclaim without pause “Dad!,” in memory of my childhood practice of running into your bedroom when the same thing happened to you and swooping up the coins that you let me keep if I got to them before you. And of course, there’s the Crostic puzzles you taught me how to do late in life that I used to mostly reserve for plane rides and now, like you, do one just about every day. You see how much you are still with me.

 

As for the report from planet Earth, things remain the best of times (particularly in my personal life) and the worst of times (the rest of the damned, demented world). The Mideast is yet again in crisis, the summers are getting hotter and the winters colder, an entire political party is certifiably insane and certainly clear traitors to the Constitution and all the hoopla about how electronic media would connect us turns out to be not only making us lonelier than ever, but giving permission for the worst parts of ourselves to blather our ugliness in public, often causing great damage to innocent sensitive souls like our children. You and I mostly have shared the perception that “the world is being shaved by a drunken barber” and felt like we didn’t need to read about it every day. But of course, I need to keep up with a certain amount when staying “informed” feels important, even as it tries to extinguish any flame of hope. 

 

As for the family news, Ginny is still teaching some dance, recently resigned from the Mt. Baldy Zen Center Board and came for the first time to Lake Michigan last summer!  Jim is still working part-time and decided recently to stop playing golf. Karen continues happily in her manner to do everything with small groups of women friends. The biking group, hiking group, sketching group, sewing group and beyond! Talia continues to be 5^thgrade teacher extraordinaire, still running marathons and backpacking every chance she gets. Still unlucky in the love department and about to turn 39 in one week, not looking promising for her to b e a mother. Not that everyone has to be, but still some sadness there. Kerala keeps churning out her great writing, but hasn’t hit the sweet spot of getting published—yet. Ronnie is switching from being a practicing hand therapist to being a teacher of occupational therapy at a college, which I think will suit him well. Your great-granddaughter Zadie, who you never have met, turned 12 yesterday and great-grandson Malik is 8. So sorry you didn’t get to meet them nor they you.

 

And speaking of great-grandchildren, there are a lot suddenly from Ginny and Jim’s side~ Ian’s two children, Kyle just became a father (imagine that!) a few months ago and Damion and Roxie are expecting in January. The Goodkin clan will continue, though a bit sadly, none with our last name!

 

As for me, so much has happened in these last sixteen years! Up to ten books, a CD, a movie, continued world travels teaching, this Blog, still playing piano at the Jewish Home, something you never witnessed but Mom enjoyed so much. At 72 years young, I’m close to the age you were when you moved out to California to spend you last 15 years close to your children (and we are so grateful that you did). The short story is that I feel at the peak of my powers—mentally, physically, artistically, spiritually—and though I could do without the neck flab and need to finally get a hearing aid, I’m simply grateful for it all and savoring it while it lasts.

 

So Dad, that’s the report from Planet Earth. I’m not expecting a return letter and what/where/how/who you are is far beyond my feeble imagination. But if indeed our remembrance of you keeps you alive in one form or another, I’m happy to report you are lovingly remembered and will continue to be for as long as I’m still here. Happy birthday!

 

Your loving son,

 

Doug