30 Good Ones.

Birthdays make me squeamish. Holidays do too. And for that matter so do closing cabinets, opening envelopes, the changing of the seasons, and the passing of most cyclical events. I’ve been struggling with this birthday lately, perhaps because it didn’t give me the sort of anxious feelings that were any different than the ones I’ve always felt this time of year. We as humans like round numbers, we attach value to them, laud them, commemorate them, and build our lives around them. I’ve always struggled with them, forcing me to count has always forced me to count the things I miss, my beloved grandmother, and the darling Cocker Spaniels I’ll never see again. These round numbers to me are quite heavy, but of course this is no one’s fault, just a matter of fact, much like mile markers along the road we are all traveling, they are no more or less special to me than they are for anyone else, they just are. But still these thoughts persist, and I think I think the best I can surmise about the peace I’ve made with life, for now, is that it’s not the fact that I’ve been alive for 30 years that’s special, but the fact that the camera’s been running- so to speak- for 30 years now, and all the things I’ve said, and felt, and pretended, and feared, and hoped, have shaped all the things I’ve seen, to get me here to this very point. And even walking home this morning it all looked different and new, I know there’s something to be said for that. If I’m being honest I still think I’m 17, I still think my friends are too, but I also know what Longfellow spoke of when he said the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts. I suspect this is the most candid I’ve ever been, I’m also certain this is the most selfish I’ve been as well. But there’s always something to be admired about candor, especially in the face of something as assured as the passage of time. So my wish, to commemorate the 30th consecutive year of recording, is for you to all bear with me, and to forgive the stubbornness, the stupid questions, and even more intolerable, the silence I like to subject you all to. I’m simply shaping my scenes, and am still but a novice, as far as these things go. I know I’m right where I’m supposed to be because the people and things I love are right in front of me, and the people and things I’ve loved are in the ground here, and that will always matter more than anything else. 30 years of lessons have affirmed that life’s conditions are immutable, and life’s joys are elusive, and fleeting. But they’re all still here, and they’re all still new, each time they appear. I want to thank everyone for bearing with me, and for being in the picture, I couldn’t imagine ever wanting to doing anything else, than having taken every single step that’s gotten me here. And as far as writing goes, editing also makes me squeamish, so I promise I’ll clean this all up, some day in the future!)