Birthdays – Grandpa Bob Encouraging Leadership

As a kid, September marked the end of summer’s glorious freedom and the start of another school year. Truth is, by mid-August, all the kids on my street were getting bored and restless, ready for something new.

My birthday is in September. But because it coincided with back-to-school season, my presents were school clothes. Useful, yes, but hardly the exciting stuff of childhood fantasies. My brother, whose birthday is also in September, was in the same boat—more school clothes. Still, it usually meant two cakes in one month, which always felt like a win.

Fast forward to adulthood. September takes on a new meaning, especially if you own or run a business. It’s the last month of the third quarter—the point where you should have a pretty good idea if your business is on track for the year. Strategic planning for next year is underway — the annual cycle never stops. Little time to pause and reflect. There’s always a new deadline, a new target. September is less about questions and more about answers and execution.

Then life throws in its own strange layers. In 2019, my father passed away on my birthday. A heavy twist of fate that turned my annual day of celebration into something far more complicated. In a strange twist of symmetry, last year, my mom died on my brother’s birthday.

Now, both of our birthdays are marked not just by the passage of time, but by the memories of losing our parents, their passing dates forever linked to our birth dates.

September marks the birth of my oldest son-in-law, my youngest daughter (32 years ago tomorrow), and one of our eight grandchildren (also tomorrow). Lots of celebrating and gift giving…and some ice cream, of course.

All of it adds up to a certain strangeness in September for me—a month of beginnings and of endings. A mix of personal milestones and bittersweet memories.

p/c – Blessing Ri on Unsplash

The assignment: Describe the most dramatic moment in your life. Easy. But, there were two rules:

1) You have 15 minutes.

2) Only use one-syllable words.

That’s a little tougher.

Here was my entry:

“The rate is gone!”

“Turn her!”

“Code blue!” yelled the nurse.

All of the white coats on the floor were there fast. Jan’s eyes showed her fear. I was no help. I froze and watched in awe.

One nurse pushed some drug in her arm. One nurse held her hand. Two docs barked new plans and the group worked their plan.

“Crash cart!” yelled one doc.

“We must go in. The child may be lost!”

This was our first child. We had been there for a day and a half, and now this. What did it all mean? Would our child make it out to see the world?

They ran down the hall on her bed with wheels. There I stood. The clock read five. The mess showed what was left from my child’s fight for life. Where did they go? I did not know so I stood there in the dark for at least three ticks of the clock.

“Sir, your wife is fine,” the nurse said. She had found me and showed me to the room. “Your child is fine. Come in and see. Would you like to hold her?”

Our girl was born! From out of the dark, the world turned bright for us all that day.

***

Twenty-five years later, yet it seems like only a few minutes have passed. Julianne made her dramatic entrance, and our lives have never been the same.

Happy (slightly early) Birthday, Julianne!