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Christopher

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As birthdays go

As birthdays go, 21 wouldn’t have mattered all that much to Charlie. He was already such a grown-up in so many ways. Obviously reaching the drinking age didn’t matter much – in his first year at Columbia he and some friends got on the dark web and ordered ridiculously real IDs - his had his real name and photo, along with a watermark and a scannable strip on the back. He liked going to old man bars and ordering a Long Island Iced Tea (ugh - maybe he wasn’t so mature).

Then again, he probably would’ve loved the official milestoney-ness of 21. He definitely wanted to be seen as adult - or anyway he liked the props of maturity. He famously read the Kissinger biography for fun and had an elaborate cappuccino maker in his dorm room. He also had a secret stash of Dunhill cigarettes - and tried to quit at one point by taking up a pipe.

At the same time he could be so silly and childlike. He loved anime, fantasy novels, and the FB group Dogspotting. When we went to a family gathering he’d hang out with the little kids (and then the older folks - skipping the kids his age entirely). His summer wardrobe mostly consisted of T-shirts picturing cartoon bears. As a kid he was obsessed with trains and close-up magic and Star Wars - and he never saw the point in putting away childish things.

Which leads me to a memory from Winter Wonderday a few days before the accident. It’s painful to describe but it’s super vivid and feels important to remember today.

Winter Wonderday is the made-up holiday our family celebrates as a kind of alternative Xmas - we duct-tape our pants over the fireplace (bigger than socks!) and leave offerings to Irving the Snowchicken. This past year the kids and I spent the holiday at a hotel in Utah. We stuffed ourselves with the traditional chicken and waffles and made gingerbread chicken coops. Before bed, we wrote notes to Irving before lighting them on fire.

Charlie read his aloud:

“Hello Mr. Snowchicken! Here are things I want:
- Love
- Mommy and daddy together again (JK LOL shit’s toxic)
- Personal fulfillment
- Solace and stability
- Cool things and stuff.
Love, Charlie.”

Before bed, Charlie looked over from the armchair where he’d curled up and asked if I’d come over. “Pick me up!” he demanded. I did my best, heaving him up and taking a few labored steps around the room.

“Baaaabeee!” he called, laughing and looking me right in the eyes. “Baabeee!”

Then he picked me up and I did the same bit, saying over and over in a silly voice: baby, baby, baby. Then Oscar got a turn, and Eliza too. It was so sweet and crazy and funny and it only occurred to me later that we were basically acting out an exercise an attachment therapist might have an adult child do with an estranged parent.

The next morning, after he’d opened his presents, Charlie put on his new Chewbacca pajamas, cradled his Lego James Bond Aston Martin set and said, over and over,

“I’m an ADULT.”

Happy birthday Charlie. I love you.