And why were these sleeping arrangements necessary? About a week ago my sister-in-law, who I think of as my sister, had to have open heart surgery. She and my brother are in Seattle. I went out there to be with them and (if you ever need me), be an advocate for her (the patient). Whatever you think about the quality of the Heath care you are receiving in a hospital, we learned a long time ago that you should always have an advocate. But this is not what I wanted to blog about.
Today is Bob Marley’s birthday. More importantly, it is also Jordan Kai Burnett's birthday. For me, It is on my children’s birthdays that I so relish my memories of the things they did, coupled with what we did, to make them the outstanding people they have become. Blah blah blah. (Of course what we did was so much more important than what they did). Isn’t that typical parent thinking? And it is not even close to the truth. I think it was Kahlil Gibran who said something like “your children are not your children. They come through you but they don't belong to you.”
This is what my mother said, “don’t you ever stop? (doing whatever), even the rain stops.” Somewhere in between Kahlil and Rose, lies the truth. Kids are who they are from the time they are born. Sure there's some genetics involved, and certainly there are environmental factors, but I knew who they would be from the moment they took their first breath. I knew they would both be funny, smart, and artistic, in whatever their chosen profession. Ok, I admit that when Seth was born I wanted to strain the air with chicken soup. This was not the case with Jordan. As many of you know I have two only children. This is a consequence of their age difference.
And since its Jordan’s birthday, I’ll take you through the steps that she might have had to climb to prove she came through me, but was not of me. Jordan was the kind of child who would comfort the other 4 year olds when their parents left them at pre-school. She was never unkind. Even when the bully in first grade called her pig snot. When we were banned from the neighborhood play group, she pretended that she didn't want to go. She was outraged by any injustice. And when the soccer coach wouldn’t let her play because her dance lessons took too much time, she made me call the county and get the $15 fee refunded. Or when the math teachers were paying more attention to the boys than the girls, she called them on it. When she sold Girl Scout cookies she wanted to sell more than anyone, so she convinced my assistant at the State Department to help her sell them in the building. (And yes, she sold the most). But she was as honest as humanly possible. She didn't steal, cheat or lie – ever. And if she was on the verge, she felt so guilty it just didn’t happen. That was her father’s influence. If she started to tell a fib, it was impossible for her to look us in the eye. There was never a time she didn’t perform, always with costumes usually with music and often with a friend or her father as her co-star.
We marveled at her fierce and unquestionable loyalty for her friends…. Boy or girl. Hillarious, compassionate, determined ,independent, smart, a true sense of justice, fiercely loyal and loving.
Was she a perfect child? What child is? There was however, never a time when she wasn’t entertaining. Even if she was angry or unhappy. Sure there was sometimes (as we in the theater call it) diva-like behavior. But it rarely got to the point where we would want to slap her upside the head. (Maybe her friends felt differently). However, the drama of her was always worth whatever the effort.
On this special day, the “we’re just sayin” writers wish the “we're just sayin” progeny a happy birthday. Much love. Much success. And it's more fun to sleep in the same room with you than Uncle Jeff. He doesn't chat and share secrets. We’re just sayin’…. Iris (and D.)
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