Poppa Palooza 2015

This past Sunday (June 21, 2015) my family and I celebrated Poppa Palooza. You ask what is Poppa Palooza? Well it is a combination of my 58th birthday (commonly known as date of gift), Father’s day, my dianniversary, longest day of the year, and first day of summer. It was and is a remarkable day. These confluence of events occurs every seven years and is always cause for extra celebration. Since it is so rare I want to explain.

Poppa

First thing to know is that I am Poppa. I have been called many things in my life, but Poppa is the name I like the best. This name was given by our granddaughter Madison when she was around 1 year old. Madison had just begun to speak and as parents and grandparents often do she was being asked who was who. Her mommy pointed at her Daddy and she said Daddy. She pointed at herself and she said Mommy. Then she pointed at me and out of the blue Madison said Poppa. It was a shock. I had not adopted that name, believing that children could name me whatever they wanted and Madison called me Poppa and the name stuck.

I love being called Poppa. I would have been thrilled with grandpa, after all Madison arrived at the name grandma for Sheryl so grandpa would have made sense. But for whatever reason Madison said I am Poppa. Each grandchild that came along (2 more) did not have the luxury of naming us. Madison’s names stuck and forever more we are Poppa and Grandma. Being called Poppa is as important to me as being called husband, or father and I cherish the name each time I hear it.

Showing up

The second part of Poppa Palooza happened 58 years ago when I was born. My mom would not have picked that day, but when she started labor she was glad it finally showed up. I was a very large baby and the pregnancy had been a bit difficult. Mom had gained over 50 pounds and was suffering from gestational diabetes. I was a “12 pound baby and the vaginal delivery was a chore” (Universal Screening; TUDiabetes January 14, 2014 ). So by the time delivery was complete mom apparently said it may have been the longest day of year, but it would forever be the longest day of her life. For many years after mom would comment each June 21 she was happy to get me out and to get me. A dual theme I did not understand until we had our first son.

I later adopted my June 21 as my date of gift as opposed to birthday. I was being asked multiple times asked at the pharmacy what my birthday is (those of us with RA understand this) that I told folks I no longer have a birthday rather I have a date of gift. As in the day God gave me to the world. Ok that sounds conceded, it is but when said with a nice grin it gets a good laugh. No I do not believe God gave me as a gift to the world, but it is a fun laugh. I suppose I have said it enough that I have added it to official repertoire’ of the day and it just sort of comes out naturally.

Father’s day, longest day of the year (the first day of summer (North America)) are calendar coincidences with June 21. Father’s day showed up this year on June 21 as it does every seventh year. When discussing this I always follow with the caution it is now time to get our winter couture’ together. Usually marked by reminding people I look good in dark brown so I am now looking for a new dark brown winter coat. I sometimes tell others it is time to put their swim suits away, after all we are on the downhill swing once June 21 is over or, it is best to live it up while we can because tomorrow it is all over. (Yes I get eye rolls).

 Dianniversary

The biggest peculiarity is that June 21, 1974 was also the day I was released from the hospital after my first week with diabetes. I always think it an odd situation. Yes I know people get released from the hospital on their birthday all the time, but for me in 1974, it was a very big deal. I enjoyed birthdays until then and have to admit I have not been thrilled with them ever sense. Not because of age, I love being 58, but because the memory of getting a carry home bag of menu’s, a bunch of urine strips and a package of disposable syringes for your birthday seemed, less than fun. My mother a long time person with diabetes (PWD), decided this was the year to dispose of having a birthday cake. Her explanation was that now that I am a PWD, cakes were no longer allowed.

Now fast forward to 2015 and I have to admit I was thrilled to get two homemade cards from my grandson and granddaughter. Each said Happy Poppa’s day. Thinking things over we later declared it Poppa Palooza day. After all when you have this much going on it’s a Palooza and no one can dispute that. Oh and most important saying the word Palooza made Madison laugh.

-30-

rick