It’s my dad’s birthday. He is 83.
“I look in the mirror and see an old guy,” he said on the phone today, “but I don’t feel old.” Life has not passed my father by.
He only has one working eye. He wears hearing aids with varying success. Often his hands quiver like the paint mixer at Home Depot. With daily drugs coursing through his rebuilt circulatory system he is a miracle of medical science.
My father is the Bill Gates of Boynton Beach. He teaches weekly computer classes to people in their 70s, 80s and even 90s. “Harold, you’re so smart,” is a common student-teacher comment. They’re right.
We were kidding around on the phone when I said, “This is the most important birthday.”
“No,” said my dad. “The next one is always the most important.”