I am one of those people who, after 32 years of birthdays, still likes getting older. Well, I suppose I should clarify that: I love having a birthday. When I was about to turn 24, my first son was born. In fact, it was the day before my own birthday when he came into this world. In part because I was happy to be a dad, and in part because he almost didn't stay in the world for long, I enveloped Peter's birthday into my own. The one day's difference didn't bother me (even though, as a child, I secretly hated my younger brother for having a birthday in March), and I have always deeply enjoyed celebrating my son's birthday with my own. Part of my love of a birthday is from growing up. In a family of four kids, there were plenty of ways in which I could get attention from my parents, but I was always content to just kind of...be there. I didn't do a lot of sports, extra-curricular activities, or trouble. I was pretty content to cruise, rarely doing much out...
Personal musings of Steven Dowdle