Dropping the Soap for Me

A Happy Anniversary and Thank You

I confess that when I started this blogging project my goal was to post a new installment once a week. That has proven to be a somewhat challenging task. Rarely have I successfully managed to meet that goal.

Ah, life; glorious and all-consuming.

Be that as it may, December 19, 2013 marks the one-year anniversary for Coming Clean Dad. I shared my first post a year ago today, and I am feeling the unfamiliar urge to celebrate. Just a little. It is a milestone, and I tend to let these things pass without recognition. You see; regardless of the seeming erratic nature of my blog posting schedule, there has also been a great deal of follow-through. Historically I would be far more comfortable focusing on all that I did not do – or all that I could have done better – rather than recognizing what was actually accomplished.

I am not altogether sure why it is my natural tendency to shy away from celebrating myself, but I have no doubt that it is not a habit that I want to pass on to my son. And if I have learned little else since his arrival two years ago, I have learned this – he will not always do what I say, but he will unfailingly do what I do. I am reminded of this undeniable fact every time he scrambles out of the bathtub and reaches for my deodorant. That being the case, I need to set an example. The change must begin with me.

So first I would like to say, “Hooray for me!”

Second, I would like say thanks to you for checking in, checking back, following, liking, sharing, tweeting, etc. It has been a wonderful journey so far and I am grateful for the support that I have received.
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In addition – while we’re paused in celebration – I would like to give you a general overview of where the story goes from here; a kind of “coming soon to coming clean.”  As the side by side autobiographical narratives continue to shift back and forth I am about to face two inconceivable challenges – dueling crucibles, if you will. At the age of twenty-two I will be handed a shaming death sentence in the form of an HIV diagnosis, and be told that my eminent demise will bring with it unimaginable ugliness and suffering. Meanwhile, at the age of forty-six, I will be ambushed at the airport with cigars and signs of congratulations telling me that I will soon be a father. I know it sounds like a desperately overwrought elevator pitch, but the truth is—oh, who am I kidding? It is a desperately overwrought elevator pitch.  So keep an eye out sometime next week – or maybe a few days after that – because the next installment of Coming Clean is coming soon.

Okay…soonish.

Finally, I would like to leave you for now with this. Celebrating matters. We deserve a pat on the back, a hug, a huzzah, or a party. All of us. For what we do. For who we are. For where we’ve been. For how we survive – or more to the heart of the matter – for how we thrive. We are unique, tenacious, surprising miracles. Each of us.

And in the purest good spirit of this most glorious season I would like to end by unapologetically pilfering the sap filled sentiment of a pathetically frail, but irrepressibly hopeful Christmas waif.

God bless us, everyone.

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