For my 21st birthday, I had a very different celebration than my son did.
I remember going to Finast and buying a six-pack of beer. That was the plan. Friends were supposed to come by, but one by one they disappeared. Before the term “ghosting” even existed, that’s exactly what happened. I wound up sitting there, drinking alone on what was supposed to be a milestone birthday.
At the time, it stung. You don’t forget birthdays like that. Twenty-one is supposed to be one of those memorable days. Mine was memorable, just not for the reasons I had hoped.
Fast forward more than 30 years.
For Jason’s 21st birthday, we spent three of the four days at Fanatics Fest in New York City. Instead of sitting alone with a six-pack, he met some of the biggest names in sports. Jalen Brunson. David Ortiz. Karl-Anthony Towns. Patrick Ewing. Cody Rhodes. Jack Hughes. Michael Irvin. We walked the show floor, talked sports, took photos, laughed, and made memories that neither of us will ever forget.
Was it expensive? Absolutely.
Was it worth it?
Without question.
As parents, we all carry pieces of our own childhood and young adulthood with us. Sometimes they’re wonderful memories, and sometimes they’re disappointments we’d rather forget. One thing I’ve always tried to do is make sure my kids have experiences they’ll remember long after I’m gone.
The older I get, the less I care about accumulating things. Experiences matter more. Time together matters more. Memories last longer than almost anything you can buy.
Watching Jason’s excitement every time he met another athlete reminded me that happiness can be surprisingly simple. Sometimes it’s just spending time with the people you love while sharing something you’re both passionate about.
People often talk about “full circle” moments. This was one of mine.
My 21st birthday taught me what loneliness felt like. My son’s 21st birthday reminded me what being present for someone else can mean.
Time has a funny way of giving us a second chance—not to relive our own memories, but to help create better ones for the people who come after us.
That’s a birthday gift worth far more than a six-pack of beer.
