Dearest Blog Reader;
I hope that this finds you doing well. I am fine. I am
sitting here on my father throne soaking up the adoration of my minions . . . I
mean children. Father's Day is the pivot point of a very important month for
me. Annually, June is the harbinger of three celebratory days for me. I'm not
Jewish, but when my Sunday school teacher was telling me Old Testament stories
with the flannel board cutouts, it seemed to me that
the Jews were always down in Jerusalem
Tu B’Shevat, Fast of Esther (Taanit Esther), Purim, Shushan
Purim, Fast of the Firstborn, Passover (1st day), Passover (final day), Yom
Hashoah, Yom Hazikaron, Yom Ha’atzmaut, Lag B’Omer, Yom Yerushalayim, Shavuot
(1st day), 17th Tammuz, Tisha B’Av, Rosh Hashanah (1st day), Fast of Gedalliah,
Yom Kippur, Sukkot, Hoshanah Rabbah, Shemini Atzeret, Simchat Torah, Hanukkah.
Please, don't be impressed with my
knowledge of Jewish celebrations. My Sunday school teacher didn't know Hanukkah
from the Twelve Days of Christmas. I owe all of my knowledge to that wizard
behind the screen: Mr. Google.
It is a holiday calendar that would cause a school boy to
wet his pants in expectation. "Time for school Tommy." "Not
today mom. It's Shavuot, first day. I get the rest of the week off."
"Get your uncircumcised butt down here young man. You're going to school
today." "Mom stop trampling my religious rights." "I give
you religious rights with the back of my hand. Now get down here right now. And
don't even think about walking down here in that Yakama on young man."
June gives me a small taste of that sweet celebratory life.
In fact, it is a little better than the Jewish celebrations. Because rather
than being all about God this or Supreme Being that, it's all about me. Well
not completely, the first celebration is balanced and shared with the lovely
Bev. We celebrate our anniversary every year on June 8. Of course, its actually
June 5th, but I can't bring myself to break Bev's spirit by correcting her year
after year. So we compromise, we celebrated 27 years of wedded bliss this past
June 8th, and I got the satisfaction of knowing that I was right on the 5th.
Then in the middle of the month, it is time to get funky on
Dad's day; breakfast in bed, chocolate amaretto pie for lunch, with a nightcap
of double stuff Oreos. I am living the dream. Phone calls come in. I get
accessories for my Big Green Egg. I am living large.
I know what you're thinking. How do you top off two
celebrations like that? You focus. You say to yourself, "Damn it! It's my
birthday coming up and it's going to be something special." It helps too
that I have found a good marketing gimmick. Rather than have people think oh
Roger gets three celebrations in one month I'm skimping on a present, I package
them all together. That's right! We celebrate the trifecta in the realm of
Sharritt. Once defined how can you not want to reach a crescendo on the last
"part" of the celebration. I feel like the Whos down in Whoville; Oh
the noise, noise,
noise, noise!
"A bit grandeous, don't you think master
Sharritt?" I used to think so. Then around age ten, I realized that even
God was getting in on the celebration. What else could explain the existence of
lightning bugs. Every year we would see one or two early June or late May. The
earliest recorded sighting at the Sharritt farm was May 26. Never earlier. They
weren't faked out by an 80 degree March. Nosiree!
That is because they are not warm weather loving insects.
No, they are Roger's birthday celebrating accoutrements from God. Building, and
building, and building, and building! Until the third week of June, with the celebration so out
of proportion in those blinking taillights, the earth actually changes its
relationship with the sun. The northern hemisphere tilts away and we take our
slow, spiraling descent to the winter solstice and seasonal affective disorder in
the afterglow of that humdinger of a party.
I can't deny it. It makes me happy to think these things.
How do I respond to my detractors and their whispers of "delusions of
grandeur"?
I'm just glad there's someone in New Zealand
Take care.
Roger
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