Happy Birthday, Dad!

Today is my dad’s 60th birthday. I can’t believe he’s 60. Shouldn’t he be retired by now? I can remember celebrating his 40th birthday. Some friends of his came over and put “over the hill” signs in the yard and strung black balloons around. I don’t think I really got what “over the hill” meant. Maybe I still don’t.

Because now he’s twenty years over the hill, but 60 doesn’t seem that old to me. Sure, my dad’s hair isn’t quite as vibrantly red as it once was, and he has a few more laugh lines than he used to have, but to me, he isn’t very old at all. So, over the hill? Waaaaay over the hill? Not my dad. My dad is still more dedicated to his work than anyone I know. He spends hours taking care of his yard. He gets down on the ground and plays with his grandson. He can do crossword puzzles in circles around me. And I’m pretty sure he’s always able to find his glasses.

One thing about my dad that has always impressed me is his iron will. Because of health issues, my dad refrains from eating sweets. In the last fifteen years, I’ve probably seen him eat only two or three desserts. I went out to lunch today with my parents to celebrate the big 6-0, and even on his 60th birthday—a milestone worthy of cake and ice cream if I ever saw one—he stuck to his no-sweets plan. My mom and I shared a dessert while my dad paid the bill. He didn’t even take a bite. Impressive, no?

Happy Birthday, Dad. Thanks for buying me dessert. It was quite delicious.