Jack

I'm listening to the wind howl around the house today and I'm thinking about the morning you were born.  It wasn't windy then.  In fact it was bitterly cold.  Cold and clear and still.  Kind of the opposite of today's weather.

Kind of the opposite.  My life's story......

You were not an easy baby.  I mean, you weren't colicky or anything like that, but after how easy of a baby your sister was, well, you seemed kind of hard to us.  You didn't like to sleep until you were ready and you were stubborn about nearly everything.  You were happiest with your hammer and a length of rope or chain.  You could watch John Deere tractor videos for hours and you loved going to work with your Dad.  I'm sure I read the book "100 Trucks" to you at least 10 times every day.    That's how I know the difference between a backhoe and a front end loader to this day.  You spent hours outside, no matter the weather, playing with your trucks in the sandbox and creating high-lead logging sites with the clothesline, the swing set, or the maple tree.  I think we went through 3 or 4 toy power saws during this time too.  And then you figured out how to use Dad's hand saws and all of the trees (and patio supports and arborvitaes) ended up girdled with saw marks.  You would only wear a few well-chosen outfits but suspenders were always the accessory of choice.  That and your hard hat.  Fast forward a few years and I can picture you, same clothing choice, with your saw, hand cutting firewood to sell in Virginia.  By the time we moved away our woods were definitely thinner.  During this time you learned to appreciate history and watched all those history movies with your Dad--especially the Civil War ones.  Baseball became your sport of choice and your Pop taught you how to fix, maintain, and build saws.  It was then that you started to amaze us with your analytical ability as a mechanic.  While other kids were playing video games you were fixing motors.  You spent your hard earned money on saw parts and axes.  Once we moved back to Oregon you moved on to Big Red and any other motor you could get your hands on.  Your stubbornness became apparent again as no one, and I mean no one, could persuade you to do something that you didn't want to do. Ahem.

You've had a pretty eventful 18th year.  You finished your schooling (can I get a "thank God"?).  You had a stellar year in baseball and earned all-league accolades.  And you started working full time as a timber faller.  Yep, you were lucky enough to have the opportunity to do exactly what you've always wanted to do.  Not a lot of people can do that.  But I figured you would find a way to make it happen so I'm not surprised really.

I'm pretty sure your Pop would be proud of the man you're becoming.  He would tell you how proud he was of your hard work.  He might critique you're falling, but that wasn't exactly his way either, so maybe he wouldn't.  I know he would be envious of your mechanic ability--he hated working on stuff.   I know that he would love your pickup.  He was always a Ford guy.  He would have loved to have you as a hunting partner.  And he would have loved to spend a weekend at Marion Lake with you too.  Probably eating those nasty toasted tuna sandwiches that he loved to cook over a fire.

Sometimes I worry that you've had to take on a role that you aren't ready for.  Losing your Dad and being the oldest son is a heavy burden to carry and you haven't had a lot of guidance and support these last few years.  I'm thankful for the lessons and habits that your Dad was able to instill in you but I still worry that I've failed you.  A Mom can't take the place of a Dad.  There's just too much that I don't get about boys and men.  I try but I know I fall short and that makes me sad.  I've had to stand back and watch some cruel, heartless things happen to you and I haven't been able to make any of it better.  I hate that.

I hope your 19th year is a good year.  One filled with new experiences, good people, and nice timber.  Keep working hard and forget about shitty people and the shitty things they do (or say).  Be honest and kind to everyone, whether they deserve it or not.  Brush your teeth and wear your retainer.  Keep your sock drawer filled with good socks and change them often.  Pay for a girl's dinner but don't get fooled by a gold digger.  Treat all girls respectfully and remember that often times girls are lacking self esteem so give them a sincere compliment.  Be the kind of guy who makes people feel good when they think of you.  Wear your tin hat and chaps when you're working.  Always.  Empty the sawdust out of your pockets before you wash your work clothes--your washing machine will thank you.  Never buy cheap laundry detergent or cheap toilet paper.  Trust me on this.  Always take the time to ask people how they're doing and never miss an opportunity to hold a baby.  Put the bathmat up after you take a shower so it will dry and not get mildewy.

No matter what, I'm always going to be your Mom.  I can't promise that I'll support you in every choice you make but I will always be honest with you and try to help you.

I love you, J.  Happy birthday.