Entry #1027
9:39 PM, April 17th, 2010:
Has it really been a year?
It was a year ago today that I was on my way to Coachella to see Paul McCartney (Front and Center!) when I got the call that my cousin Elsa was born that day. My Uncle Tim and I grew up more like brothers, so it was a special moment thinking of the scene back home with his wife, Eileen. It occurred to me rather as I hung up the phone that I had never thought about this when I made the first "Lila Birthday song" (their first child) the year before - carrying on the "Kenny Birthday song" tradition. Can't play favorites here. However, I didn't want to do the same thing. With Lila, I tried to "parody" her name into different songs as opposed to Kenny where I just sang Happy Birthday, so what would I do for Elsa?
And then, on the day of her birth, Paul McCartney sang "birthday". Though I was trying desperately to save my one hour of recording time, I grabbed 30 seconds, and never uploaded it until today. :) In a decade or so, she may think this is cool:
Gotta be cool to think that was the day of your birth. There's a picture of my dad playing music the night I was born that I have always gazed at growing up with wonder. Duh, this is the internet. Here it is:

It blows my ever-lovin' mind that I am 10 years older than him in that picture.


Wow. Oh wow. That's a stat I really didn't need to type. Do our parents just, always look older than us? No matter what? That picture makes me feel like I'm 5, so it's just ingrained in my head that he's 20 years older than me. And now I'm 10 years older than him? Fuck photography man. What has photography done to our species? This coming from a guy who videotapes his entire life. (sigh)

So with this birthday, I thought I'd try each year to find some little slice of life that's happening in the world on that day. By itself it may be abstract, but in 17 years it will make for a cool few moments. Tim & Eileen need to stop at 2 however. :)
It of course goes without saying, I would love to be home on days like this. I love kids, and abhor being a stranger to parts of my family when I visit. It is the one sacrifice that adds weight to my shoulders that feels too selfish. You can't get this time back. And you look in the mirror and oftentimes ask: "Why are you doing this?". I have to remember that the answer is nearly sub-conscious: at this point? It isn't just in me, it is me. I am this fight, I am this struggle - and until I find peace with it? I'm not much good in any other capacity.
So Happy Birthday Elsa, your first. It's all downhill now. Ha.