Day One

I slowly and carefully pulled back the bed sheet from over my eyes and peered into the bedroom. Groggy vision revealed the room was still dark. Was it morning yet? My little digital alarm clock on the nightstand glowed 7:16 am. I could see through small spaces between the window shades that there was light, gray light, but no sunshine.

I pushed my head further into the pillow, then covered my head once again with the sheet and blanket. Was it finally over? Had it come to a peaceful end? I realized it had indeed concluded some seven hours and sixteen minutes earlier. My mind began to clear a bit more. The year of 2007 was truly and officially over, complete, spent, history. Thanks goodness! I'm not sure I could have withstood much more of one the most difficult years of my life.

Being a self-professed pragmatist, I'll admit there have been tougher years than last year. It's all relative to your own space in time right now. I know for a fact that 1986 is right up there on the list of lousy years for yours truly. Among many other things transpiring that year: a heart attack and my first angioplasty. Ah...thanks (to myself) for the memories!

We all hope and want to believe that this year will be better than last year. Perhaps it will, perhaps it won't. Quite possibly 2008 will present even bigger challenges than 2007 or 1986...or 1994 (divorce)...or 1969 (dodging the draft by enlisting in the Navy)...or 1996 (quintuple bipass)...or 1957 (Pacoima plane crash)...or 1950 (the year I was born, how much more challenging can it get than that?). A slap on the butt and taking that first breath of air, the first two things I remember of this life, were quite dramatic!

I remember thinking at that moment, "Are these things called lungs gonna keep working past one single breath? Let's try it again. Yeah...eureka! They do work correctly. Thanks, Mom. Good job with me these past nine months. However, why does my ass sting so much? And why am I hanging upside down?"

The first few days of my life are a little blurry, figuratively and literally...I could not yet see, you know? But when I finally could see more than just abstract shapes passing in front of me, I had my first epiphany. I realized that I was surrounded by people who thought I was the greatest thing since sliced bread! There was my Grandma "Chris" (short for Christiansen). My Grandma Hansen. Some Aunts and Uncles who would present me with cousins someday. There was my Dad, Jim, and his brothers out in the kitchen, smoking cigars and sneaking a shot or two of hooch. And of course, there was my Mom, Betty, holding me tightly and snuggly and warmly in my first baby blanket. They were all there. It was the middle of winter, and that means cold and snow in South Dakota...though I didn't know anything about the cold yet. The chariot that carried me home from the hospital, a 1937 Oldsmobile, sitting just outside covered in snow.

My Dad had yet to called up by the Navy reserve to serve in Korea, that would come later in the year. And he would be gone for quite a while during my first couple of years. It's one of reasons why my Grandma Christiansen christened me "Skipper" soon after I was born. A nickname that has stuck for almost 58 years now. Although I prefer the more succinct "Skip", I am often referred to as "Skipper" by folks who take a liking to me. I guess I'll have to continue to reluctantly live with that moniker. Could be worse! Butch...Billy Bob...Pie Hole...Shitbird...Worthless. Like I said, I could have a worse nickname.

At this point in life, I try not to have epiphanies or make resolutions any longer. Much too disappointing later on. That first big epiphanous moment in 1950 was a good one, hard to top that. Everything from that point on has been "gravy".

Day One underway. Full steam ahead. After all, I am the Skipper.