I’d like to take a short break this week from my usual sarcastic rants and get a little personal; I do this from time to time. I’m sure that next week I’ll be right back to my typical cynical banter. Thank you in advance for indulging me.
This week marks my favorite day of the year, March 12th. It’s not an official recognized holiday and may not be circled on many calendars other than my own. And yet, I anticipate this day and celebrate it with the vigor of a child at Christmas. On this day, banks will not be closed, mail will still be delivered, and kids will have to go to school. You won’t find any ridiculous discount sales at department stores, or car dealerships, nor will you find throngs of people all wearing the same color. There will be no decorations, fireworks, or mass celebrations. But to me, it’s the most important day of the year.
On this day, I honor and celebrate two women, whom in my opinion are the two most wonderful women ever to walk the planet. I’m not speaking of the Virgin Mary and Mother Theresa. I’m not referring to Joan of Arc, or Princess Dianna. I don’t even mean Harriet Tubman and Clara Barton. I’m referring to the amazing woman who gave birth to me and, the equally amazing woman who has given birth (and will soon again), to my children. These have been the two most important and influential women in my life, and the two most responsible for shaping me into the man I am today. Which, for the first time in my life I can say, is something I’m proud to be.
March 12th is my mother’s birthday and I’d feel remiss not to celebrate such a joyous occasion. She would have been 73 this week. I could not have asked for a better mom growing up. She was the most patient, loving and compassionate woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. Anyone who could deal with me throughout my youth is certainly Saint-worthy. Mom never had a harsh word to say to, or about anyone. I wish I could be more like her. She fought and defeated the evil that is cancer five times before succumbing to the beast in bout number six, at the far too young age of 63. Throughout her painful ordeal, she never once displayed any signs of defeat, negativity, or self-pity. Based on her attitude alone, you would never have known the she was sick. One of the things I’m most proud of is being able to call myself her son. As I honor her on this day, and celebrate her birthday, I won’t cry because she is gone; I will smile because I knew her. If I have any sorrow at all this week it will be because she never got a chance to hold her three youngest grandchildren. Also, that she wasn’t around long enough to see her Baby Boy FINALLY become a “grown up”. Happy Birthday Mom! I love you and miss you terribly each and every day.
March 12th, by no accident or coincidence, also marks the date that I married the love of my life. I could think of no better date to have my anniversary on than my mother’s birthday. On this day one year ago, I married my soul mate. Whom I’d sought my entire life without ever even knowing I was searching for her. I had no idea how incomplete my life was until she became a part of it and made me whole. I could not conceivably hope for a better wife or a better mother to my children. I’m the luckiest man alive and I am truly blessed. I don’t know, nor will I ever understand what this incredible woman sees in me, but I’ve stopped looking the proverbial “gift horse” in the mouth. It takes a very special and tolerant woman to be my wife, let alone breed with me. Thank God my kids are at least batting .500 genetically. All I know is that I look forward to waking up next to this fine woman each and every day for the rest of my life. Happy anniversary, Baby! I look forward to many, many more with you by my side. I love you more than life itself and I always will.
Not to be forgotten in this mix of my female heroes, March 12th is also the birthday of another important woman in my life—my sister-in-law. Happy birthday to the sweet young girl from Colorado who married my brother nearly three decades ago. She has always loved and supported me unequivocally and without judgment even through my obnoxious adolescence, my tumultuous twenties, and my train-wreck thirties. And for this I thank her. Not at all unlike the two aforementioned ladies, she is a member of a very select, and very patient and tolerant few who were bold and brazen enough to marry one of the males in my family. My brother is only deemed “normal” by default. This is simply because I personally have raised the “loony bar” for the males in my family to such a height that it’s nearly impossible to eclipse—though not for a lack of trying by my father and brother. If you don’t have a sense of humor and a thick skin in my family, you don’t survive long.
Well, that concludes my written celebration of March 12th and its importance to me, as well as my brief honoring of some of the most important and influential women from my life. I know this one was a little out of character for me, but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless because it really meant a lot to me to write this.
Thanks for playing along.
Until next week,
Syd Nichols
By the way, thanks to the Bulldog Show on Ocean 98 for the plug.
