After the calamities I experienced
the past few days, I am happy to report that there is something good happening
today.
My father
turns 79 years young today.
And yes, I
do mean young. Both he and my mother are the youngest older people I know. My
mother has the energy of someone a third of her age (she turns 80 in March),
and my father, while a little slower than she is, is as active as one can be at
his age.
Proof: he
still drives a New York City cab for a living!
No, he
doesn't own his own cab anymore--he did for several decades--but he still
drives a yellow cab for a fleet three days a week.
And don't
think this is easy work.
He gets up
at 1 a.m., leaves by about 2 a.m., gets into work by 3 a.m. or so, and begins
work for the next 14 or 15 hours or so. Then he drives home, which is
oftentimes a trip of two hours or more.
Double that
regimen, and you get what he was doing for many decades before that when he
worked five days a week (or sometimes six days a week).
He is the
guy who brought me up with a sports-minded bent. I wasn't the greatest
athlete--although I played all sports--but he was the one who taught me that
the first part of the newspaper you turn to in the morning is the sports
section.
He is my
link to my heritage, as is my mom. With my grandparents long gone, both of them
are the leaders of our family--spiritually, mentally, emotionally and
religiously.
Sure, he
isn't 25 anymore. He has had some health ills, but nothing catastrophic, I am
happy to say.
He also has
a wry sense of humor, says what is on his mind, and is stubborn as all
hell--just like I am.
And I am
very proud of him.
So happy
birthday, Dad. I hope you have at least 79 more birthdays to celebrate!
And by the
way, how is he celebrating his birthday?
He is, of
course, behind the wheel of a New York City cab. As we speak here, he is
happily at work.
He is a true
one of a kind.
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