Would You Prefer the Clown or the Magician?

A big shout out to my son Ben on his 26th birthday. Since the day he was born on a Friday the 13th, halfway between Halloween and Thanksgiving, he has been both a joy and a curse to me. With his bright red hair, boundless energy, and insatiable appetite, we called him the thing that came from the kitchen.

Coincidentally, he is also my wife's son, and we named him after our favorite historical character, Benjamin Franklin. He was my buddy through thick and thin, and as with his older brother Nikolaus, we dragged him all over creation and back.

One of my favorite memories is of play wrestling on my bed and his "punishment" for letting me pin him down was I would lean close to his ear and sing the love song from the movie "Titanic." This would cause him to struggle to beat the band, and we would both be laughing so hard we could barely move.

As he entered his teen years, things went down hill. Although we were still close, my wife and I watched him make decisions that we knew would destroy his life. Perhaps this is so with all parents and teenagers. I must take a large part of the blame. As he heard stories of his old man's wayward youth, he felt compelled to outdo me, a path fraught with pitfalls.

He saw the best of me and the worst, and I of him. It was with the heaviest of hearts that we saw him drop out of school, in trouble with the law, and estranged from the family.

Where was the little boy, who when we were boarding a plane for Disney World with my family, leaving behind his crying mother, said for all to hear, "Don't cry mom, I'll be back," or in the depths of Mammoth Cave, rubbed the wishing stone, and brought the tour group to its knees when he said, "My wish is that we get out of here alive," and he meant it?

Fortunately I was still here to see him survive, and begin the grueling struggle to pull himself out of the grave he had dug for himself. Under the tutelage of a very strong, wise and knowledgeable man, Jim Simpson, he learned the building trade - carpentry, electrical, plumbing, even automotive, as well as the discipline needed to carry out the grunt work.

And still the struggle continues, but I have seen him grow into a fine, handsome, brilliant young man. It was only a year ago that he married his sweetheart, Ashly, in the most wonderful wedding I have ever seen. He transformed our property into an autumn fairyland of hay bales, pumpkins, and cornstalks, and they were married on a crisp, clear, fall afternoon beneath one hundred and fifty year old trees.

Other than life itself, he has given us much more than we could ever have given him. We now have a beautiful, amazing daughter who continues to impress us more each day. She drew forth the love that was hidden deep within him, but that once tapped, was a limitless wellspring. He has given us grandchildren, continuing the hope in the future, upon which each new generation rests. His responsibility and commitment to his family shines like a beacon on a hill, as an example to all.

And yet the march of time rolls on. He is now officially closer to 30 than 20. But as he embarks upon young adulthood, from where I lay, I couldn't be more pleased. He carries on the torch that I handed down to him from my father, and my father's father before him - the torch of truth and justice (and the American way). No father could be more proud of his son.

So once again, I say to my son Ben, a very happy birthday, and many, many, many more.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kaRPjjDdvjg