Day 3
April 4, 2016
The Tri Pi Letter: C
CELEBRATE
Celebrate, celebrate, dance to the music!
Life is an occasion, rise to it. Life is also a celebration of having this opportunity to be incarnate, and have the chance to have a human experience. That’s right, Soul Patrol speaketh.
The question is, what does one celebrate? Which leads to how does one celebrate?
Through the years – and I’m sure these happened, as I’ve seen the pictures – there have been parties. Most of the early ones were birthday parties. There’d be cake, cookies, ice cream. Which is interesting since I believe, as a wee one, I was not that partial to sweets. Nor, from what I’ve been told, was I interested in plain old entree type food. I’ve been known – again stories handed down – to do the chipmonk thing, after being fed part of a hotdog for lunch, to push it over into my cheek, and nap with it there. Of course, I’m sure my hope was that my mother would cease and desist on that front. As I grew older, and began speaking up for myself, I’m told, I was heard saying ‘I don’t want tupid (read that stupid) chicken.’
Somewhere I think my idea of celebrations began to turn to other activities. When I was asked what I wanted to do for my sweet sixteen birthday, I said I wanted to go up to Fahnstock State Park where we could go camping and have a cook out. I think I fancied burnt marshmallows. But mostly, I just wanted to be outdoors. No frilly girly dresses for me. No catering houses need be. Jeans and t-shirts, and hiking boots, and tramping around in the wilds of upstate New York.
I believe I had some sort of high school graduation celebration. Though I don’t recall what it was. I do remember that our prom was held out at a beach resort, on Long Island, and it was a weekend deal. My date, Little Jimmy, who was probably the first boy I actually went out with (keeping in mind that Harry Chung was my first heart throb, but he sadly paid no attention to me – except in third grade when he taught me how to curse) escorted me to said prom.
As time passed, there were many other kinds of celebrations which my family did annually: Christmas Eve tree decoration at the Hedges, and the morning after where I got to be master (or is that mistress?) of ceremonies, and passed out the gifts, which were piled high in the chairs in the bedroom, which served, nights, as my parent’s sleeping quarters. We didn’t have our own tree – something about me pulling it down when I wasn’t even knee high.
Perhaps the greatest celebration has been that of LOVE, when Mr. Quantum and I were handfasted. (Sounds kinky, doesn’t it?)… That was 18 years, 1 month and 5 days ago. That celebration… well, let’s just say, what happens behind closed doors, stays behind closed doors.
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Quantum Hermit 