Happy Birthday, Narf

Instead of putting a black & white Memorial tribute in the newspapers for people who don't even know Earl, I thought I would share some pictures with everyone who knew him and shared in his Journey. The picture below left was taken just before his cousin, Jeff, took him flying on August 8, 2005, the day before he had his PDT injection. He was not able to swallow at this point, but liked to "swish" with cold water. The top picture on the right was taken at Beverly's house on May 30, 2005, the day before we found out his diagnosis. Art had grilled steaks that day and Earl was determined to eat one. It took him close to an hour, but he did it! Happy Birthday, Narf. I love you.
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I used to love Halloween. Back in the early and mid 60’s, Halloween was not the structured commercial giant that it is today. Like many other things, it had a special place in my heart from a more “simple” time. Decorations usually consisted of a grinning Jack-O-Lantern on the porch, and (at my house) the front picture window was covered with cardboard cut-outs of spooky houses, graveyards, and pumpkins. Costumes were usually made out of old clothes, bed sheets, or whatever else was available. I think I was a Hobo, complete with a neatly-tied bundle of belongings on a stick over my shoulder, for 4 years in a row. Not real original, but it served the purpose. Sometimes a kid was lucky enough to have a home-sewn costume (I had a witch costume that my mom had made for me) but store-bought costumes were not nearly as elaborate as those that can be widely found today. We would put on some over-the-top make-up, grab a pillow case and run around the neighborhood for hours, raking in the loot. Trick-or-Treat times were not set by the municipalities; as soon as we were ready after school, we started out and didn’t come home for several hours. Halloween parties were filled with activities, such as bobbing for apples, or going blind-fold through the “mad doctor’s laboratory” wherein our hands touched “eyeballs” (hard boiled eggs) or “brains” (cold spaghetti) and were the social event of the season. Then there was the candy! Other than the occasional apple (which immediately was set aside) people were not concerned with “low-fat” or “sugar-free” on this night. My sister and I would have a candy stash that fed our sweet tooth until Christmas. The sadness of growing too old for the fun of Halloween was eventually replaced by the anticipation of sharing in the fun with my own children. When I met Earl and found out that his birthday was on Halloween, I called him my Fuzzy Punkin, a loving reference to his curly hair. It was usually his choice if he wanted to be home that night to give out treats, or go out for his birthday. We reasoned that we shouldn’t be made to stay home when we had no children to share in the fun.

All that changed when Jonathan was born. My longing to create Halloween memories for our children seemed to push Earl’s birthday farther away. Oh we would always have a celebration, just usually not on his birthday. I tried to make his day special, but unless the day fell on a weekend, time constraints in the evening meant getting the kids dressed up while trying to grab a bite of dinner, decide who wants to go make the rounds and who wants to stay home & give out treats and before you knew it, the day was over. Earl rarely commented on the lack of attention; it was just his selfless way.

How I wish I could wake up early tomorrow morning, roll over and kiss my husband and wish him a Happy Birthday. I would make him his favorite breakfast and tell him that he can do whatever he wants to do today, that both of us are taking the day off. And that later on, we would have a special party planned just for him with all his family. I would have made him a huge birthday cake with plenty of ice cream on the side, and I would have bought him a special gift, something to do with his beloved birds or music. But all I could do this year is have Mom & Dad, Bev, Artie & the kids over for chop suey, one of Earl’s favorite dinners.

Somehow, it wasn’t the same.

I wish more than anything that I could put up a sign on the porch tomorrow night that reads: “Private Birthday Party in progress! Earl A. Reinert, III is 53 today! Please take some candy from the bucket in celebration of Earl’s birthday!”

I hate Halloween this year.