Two Birthdays

January 11th, 1965, was the day set aside for the birth of my little sister, Jeanne. I can't imagine my life without her; she was, for the longest time, my best friend and closest companion in the journey of life that began so long ago in far-off California, and through that on to Arkansas, Texas, and Virginia. We were always "the little guys", which pitted us against our older siblings in a traditional competition to see who could drive our parents around the bend furthest and fastest. It was a stiff competition, and we would've won, too, had it not been for the onset of puberty, when my best friend and playmate was suddenly whisked off to Never Never Land to become A Young Woman (whilst I was obviously still A Boy).

So I gained a room of my own, but lost my best playmate.

In the intervening years, she went on to become A College Student who, in the family mythology, zipped through school at the speed of light, supplemented her meager income by donating blood, lived off air and promises, became a teacher with Definite Ideas Of Her Own, found, dazzled and married a young engineering-type man of geek repute, begat two amazing and incredibly talented children, survived her husband's pursuit of a Doctorate Degree, managed a household consisting of more animals than humans, and found sufficient time and energy to read, write, sew, cook, sing, pray, teach and lead.

Truly an amazing person.

Were it not for the fact that we live such distant and disparate lives, she in the warmth of Tucson, busily accomplishing wonderful things, and I in the cold and wintry northern country, huddled under a blanket and trying not to waste energy by moving, we would undoubtedly gather for a well-deserved round of cake and song. As it stands, however, we think of her today and call down blessings from the Lord on her head, that she may, in the words of my favorite Vulcan, "Live long and prosper."

There is another birthday today, that of a dear friend in whose company I have not been lo these many years gone by: Jay Franklin Smith, born on this day in the year 1960. I miss him, as I miss all the people who we left behind on the Pacific shores when we departed. But there is a special part of my heart that he owns, and perhaps the only way that anyone can understand the feeling I have for him, is to tell a story about him.

I first met Jay back in the early 90's when we were both working on the 777 program at Boeing. We were module testers. Module testers are the lowest of the low, the scum of the earth, the guns-for-hire who are brought in to do the drudge work of writing tests for each and every block of code that goes into a major piece of avionics software such as the piece we were working on. It wasn't especially creative work; it didn't require reams of talent or libraries of knowledge. It was vital and important to the success of the program, but it would never give us meaning to our lives.

Yet we were - are - both highly creative people. The type of people who like to laugh. And be silly. And Boeing was stupid enough to put us in the same cubicle. Where we could feed off each other, crack jokes, make each other laugh at silly things that other people - or companies - did. It was like putting nitro and glycerin together.

It was one of the happiest work experiences of my life, sitting there with Jay and doing mindless work and laughing all day long. If there was ever a time in my life when it was easy to go to work every day, that was it. Jay made it fun. Sometimes it was actually difficult to get work done because the work was never as fulfilling as just being there and talking to Jay, but we managed. We did do our work.

There were some - oh, I can't remember the names! - there were some people who frowned upon our frivolity. For them, work was serious place, and laughter was as out of place as a hamburger at a Vegan restaurant. It was the guy on the other side of the wall, a guy for whom frowns were the uniform of the day, a guy for whom the job was degrading and tedious and punishment; and How dare we enjoy ourselves when we were supposed to be getting work done?

He complained. Not to us, mind you, but to our manager. They won't stop laughing, he (probably) said. They talk and talk and talk all day long, they cut up and joke around; I can't even think with them around. What a spoil-sport! But Managers can't just let those things slide. They have to do things, fix things, make things work out for the good of the Company.

The Manager talked to us. I seem to recall that he called us in separately and talked to us, but my memory may be faulty. I do remember being "talked to", though, and being chagrined and angry, all that the same time. Mostly I felt bad because I'd brought trouble down on the head of my friend. I didn't want to jeopardize that friendship - but I also couldn't imagine coming to work and not having the chance to talk and laugh with Jay.

We were quiet for a little while, and I was all red-faced and embarrassed and angry, trying to think up some vicious things to do to the guy which I'd never do, but it made me feel better to think about it. And then I snuck a look over at Jay, and he was smirking. Smirking. He was annoyed as much as I was, probably angry, too; but he kept his humor about it. He wasn't going to let this jerk ruin his day. And he didn't. He let the guy have a little while to cool off, to think he'd won the point, and then slowly, steadily, he started doing what we'd done before. Talking. Laughing. Enjoying each other's company.

I seem to recall that we got called on it again, but after seeing Jay's reaction that first time, I just let it slide. It didn't matter. He wasn't going to let that guy dictate how he acted at work. I don't remember what happened to the guy we were annoying - he must've moved on or something - but months later, Jay and I were still there.

We both moved on after that, even working at Microsoft together for a short time (in the same office!), and every time we got together, it was as if we'd never left. Jay was always funny, happy, considerate, smart and witty - and an amazing artist, of course. Sometimes I wonder how he could do all that and still get his work done. But he always did.

Happy Birthday, Jay.

Happy Birthday, Jeanne.