Happy 21st Birthday John Moore!

I finally became a grownup on this date 21 years ago.

Not that I wasn’t an ADULT before. Technically, I had already passed the milestones of 18, 21, marriage and home ownership (and all of its attended debt).

It’s just that until parenthood turned my little self-absorbed world upside-down, I had no idea what it was really like to be so completely focused on every nanosecond of another human being’s existence. All of that changed irreversibly on a winter day in Bangor, Maine.

John Patrick Moore was born at Eastern Maine Medical Center on March 10, 1989. Weighing in at 10lbs, 9oz, to say that John’s entry into this world was an ordeal for his mother Peggy (no, it was NOT a C-section) is an understatement. A long labor all night long—and me in surgical mask due to some kind of flu bug that forced the staff to try and contain my germs led to an exhausting experience for everyone (especially my wife!)

The swirl of emotions are still a fresh memory after all these years. Anticipation, fear, apprehension, concern, joy, exhilaration and utter exhaustion were but a few of the roller coaster swings that both Peggy and I experienced. Peggy, of course, had the dominant element of PAIN throughout. It’s a good thing that men don’t give birth. We are wusses.

Back in my parent’s day, my father paced in some kind of waiting room, ready for a doctor or nurse to deliver the news, cigars poised for distribution. Not the father of today, who faithfully (if not enthusiastically) attends the Lamaze classes and dutifully fetches the ice chips during labor and delivery. I was that guy.

Amazing doesn’t begin to describe the experience. My eyes bugged out of my head to scan every inch of our new child, our first born. Mentally counting fingers, toes and….hey, it’s a BOY! (that too), I was a complete blob of emotion, crying at the miracle I had just witnessed.

Driving home to Ellsworth later that day, I fell asleep at the wheel of my Mazda not a mile from our home. The car crossed the center line, left the road and crashed into a small stand of trees on the Bayside Road. The police thought that I was drunk—and understandably so. Standing next to what used to be my car, I was not at all upset. Punch drunk from exhaustion and the events of the last 24 hours, all I could say to the responding officer was , “I’m a Daddy!” Unbounded joy from my first born son’s entry into this world was now coupled with gratitude for my not exiting said world on the same day.

Sometime later that day, it began to hit me: Life would never be even remotely the same ever again.

And that was OK.

Diapers, feedings and projectile vomiting was replaced by a succession of life events: crawling, walking, talking, riding a bike, first day at school, Little League, middle school, high school, endless sports, games and family events. Graduation and entrance into college and soon a diploma from RPI become the latest chapters.

Through it all, Peggy and I have been witnesses to an incredible person growing and developing into the outstanding young man that John Moore is today. That we have had the same (but different!) experiences twice more with our daughter and youngest son has made us the luckiest people on earth—and we know it.

Twenty-One is a milestone to be sure. A legal adult in every sense of the word—and yet, he will always be my little buddy—even if he towers over me, which he does. And as hard as it would have been to imagine this day 21 years ago when John was born, I look just as enthusiastically towards the NEXT 21 years, where more adventures—and no doubt some challenges-- await us.

Bring it on!

John, we love you more than we can ever say—and I personally am so proud to be your Dad that I am still bursting at the seams—the same emotion I felt 21 years ago when I first held you in my arms.

Happy birthday, buddy!


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