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Forty
He was just a little fella. He wasn’t even a week old. He lay in the crib, asleep, just being peaceful and cute as a button. As I watched him sleep, he opened his eyes. He smiled. I smiled. It was love at first sight. His name was Chris.
I had been in love with Sam for a long time. We never dated. I was always a self-conscience and scared teenager who was nervous around pretty girls. I was never the bold, brash and daring young man. She’d had my heart in her hands since the fourth grade, even if she didn’t know it. By the time we made it to our senior year of high school, I’d despaired of every having my chance. Little did I realize what life had in store.
Sam got pregnant in the winter of ‘82, but it took a while for the rumor I’d heard to be confirmed. It hit me like a ton of bricks at the time. Though we’d never dated, I believed it might happen. This whole pregnancy thing might just be God’s way of telling me to move on, I thought. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I loved her.
After Graduation in May of ‘83, Sam went to live with her aunt in Memphis, so she could be closer to the hospital. I went off to summer semester at Arkansas State University, in Jonesboro, Arkansas to start my education. I’d got Sam’s phone number from her friend Jolynn and called her. We talked a lot on the phone. You remember, the thing that used to be attached to the wall, and had the curly, stretchy cord and a rotary dial? Yeah, that thing. I racked up quite a phone bill on my “Summer Tour” of ASU. So much so, that my mother had to take me to task for it, since my parents were paying for it. I still remember telling my mom about who I’d been calling. That was a nervous conversation on my part. She took it in stride. She knew it’d be useless to tell me who to love. Later, when we got engaged, my mom only gave me one piece of advice. “If you’re going to marry her, you’re marrying that baby, too. You love that boy and treat him as your own.” Best advice I ever got. Maybe the only advice I ever really followed through on, too. It was worth it.
Christopher Taylor Stone turned forty this past Wednesday. He’s a Physician Assistant in Nashville, Tn. He has never once given me a moment of grief in those forty years. I watched as he grew from that sleepy baby and turn into a man of morals, understanding and principles. He loves music, is very much a Gym-Rat and a sports nut, especially baseball. It’s hard to understand how the little fella that used to sit in my lap and watch cartoons has become such a man. The kid could put his Go-Bots together faster than I could. He was always helpful with his brothers and sister when they came along. Teachers loved him. He’s always been a polite, hard-working person. He’s everything a father could ask for in a son.
As I look back at that first meeting with Chris, I know it was a turning point in both of our lives. I know now why Sam gave me a chance. She saw joy in my eyes when I met that baby boy. She knew, better than I did, that those first few moments would determine if she’d give me even the slightest opportunity to go out with her. I fell in love with Chris, and she fell in love with me. The rest is history. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
So, thank you Chris, for being the man you are. Every father’s goal is to see his son grow up to be a better man than he is, and you’ve been there for a long while. I’ll take some credit, along with mom, for the first eighteen years. You have YOU to thank from then on out. Keep being you, because you’re perfect just the way you are. I love you. Happy birthday! And thanks for smiling back at me forty years ago.
Rolling Stones 