'To my daughter, on her 10th birthday'
The English word for daughter is more than 1,000 years old. You, my daughter, have just turned 10 years old. The word for you is old, yet you yourself are, of course, quite young.
I celebrate your birthday as a marker – you have lived one full decade upon this Earth. I know you still have many things to learn. I also know that whatever advice I give you may not be heard at all, or possibly heard, then quickly dismissed.
With all that in mind, it is my most fervent hope that you grow up to become a strong, independent woman. I also hope that whatever you do, you will look for work that makes you happy. It makes life more purposeful and worthwhile.
In these last few months, I have been pleasantly surprised by your growing interest in nature, from the time you found a caterpillar in your grandmother’s backyard to the day you pointed out to me a blue jay grasping a tall tree branch. Your energy and humor have impressed me as well, including the time you danced wildly to rock music on the bed in one of the rooms in our apartment and the day you zigged and zagged like the Flash across the front lawn of your grandmother’s house, shouting as a thundering rainstorm approached, “Run like the wind, baby!”
I was most impressed by you at the Riverdale YMHA Run, on May 15. You were planning to run the 5K course. You worked out at the YMHA on Wednesday nights to get yourself ready for the run. I was planning to walk it, being completely out of shape for most everything athletic, except maybe picking up a fork.
The night before the run, you were scared that we would become separated and what would happen to you then? You asked to walk with me, so you wouldn’t get lost. I said sure, of course.
The next morning, you surprised me with a change in the plan. At breakfast, you said something like, “I trained for this. I want to run.”
Those words had an effect on me. I saw something important in you right there, that I had not seen before. You showed me a spark of real bravery, of independence.
We got to the race. It was so very cold for mid-May — about 45 degrees. We weren’t dressed for the weather. But you ran. On your own. You found me easily when I crossed the finish line much later than you.
As a rock singer way before your time (Neil Young, one of the ancients), once wrote, long may you run.
Mike Gold lives and works in the Bronx.
Keywords
Riverdale Y, Mike Gold
