My Quadrennial Blog Post

Leap Year.  The Summer Olympics.  The U.S. Presidential Election.  A blog post from me.  Yup, it's time for me to scribble out some thoughts for posterity.  I opened this account eight years ago, thinking I'd have the discipline to post my musings every couple of days or so.  Who was I kidding?  Keep in mind, in 2004, there was no Twitter.  "The Facebook" was limited to a few students at Harvard.  Those are platforms that are more conducive to my short attention span.

I've chosen to post here this day because today, June 16, 2012, I am 50 years, 260 days old.  Not a random day.  On March 6, 1984, my father also turned 50 years, 260 days old.  He also died that day.  He had been ill for about six months, and it didn't come as a surprise.  After much suffering, his passing, while sad, came as a relief.

One of my biggest regrets is that I really never got to have an adult to adult relationship with my father.  I was only 22 when he died, and as anyone who is around my age knows, 22 is barely an adult.  I remember about a week before he died, I had what may seem as a small incident, that I soon recognized as a life changing moment for me.  With my father sick in the hospital, I went to cover the 1984 New Hampshire Primary.  My father sold cars all his adult life, and in his final years, had a small used car lot in Hyannis.  I had driven to Nashua in an Oldsmobile Cutlass he had on the lot.  But the car's battery kept crapping out, and the alternator light kept coming on.  In the past, I would have just called my Dad, and he would have come to my rescue.  But as I sat in the cold Olds around midnight outside the Sheraton Tara, I knew that day I would have to fend for myself.  The next morning after sleeping in the car (don't try to find a hotel room in New Hampshire on primary night) I walked to a Zayre's store, bought a cheap set of tools, and then went to an auto parts store to get a replacement alternator.  My father had taught me enough basic mechanics to know how to swap out the alternators.  I found a jump, and was able to drive home, content in the knowledge I would be able to survive after my father was gone.

As I lived each day since his death, I've always taken comfort in knowing my father was at one time, the same age as me on any given day.  From time to time, I'd figure out my age, to the day, and then figure out when he was the same age, what he was doing, and compare.  While it may seem a bit competitive, it was just a great way to gauge my accomplishments with his.

As tomorrow, which ironically happens to be Father's Day arrives, I am hopeful I will awake and be 50 years, 261 days old. It will be uncharted territory for me. I look forward to it and to many days ahead, hoping to do many things that would have made my father proud.  While he never lived to see 50 years, 261 days, lessons I learned from him will be with me.  Be honest, to yourself and others.  Accept everyone for who they are.  Speak only when you have something important to say.

Happy Father's Day.  Bookmark this site, and come back for my next post in 2016!

Thomas J. Brown
6/21/1933-3/6/1984