Tomorrow is my Dad’s birthday – he’s turning 45. Again.

My Dad has been turning 45 since I turned 13. To be honest, I’m not sure when he’ll hit his fifties – probably when I get married or have children. Then he’ll be 50, or maybe even 55.

My Dad looks young. He’s been riding a stationary bike daily for over 27 years (my life) and finally gave it up for weight training, an inspiration to me for sure. Sure he’s balding – and has been for a while – but the good way. You know, like David Letterman.

My dad’s birthday is impossible to remember. I mean, not literally, for you… but for me it is. After 25 years of my life I finally figured out that it was in September. And I knew that it was a teen – that left seven days that it could possibly be, 13th -19th. So I’ve been narrowing it down. Luckily I have a sister, a mom, a girlfriend, and a handy calendar – who are all much better at remembering my Dad’s birthday. But why can’t I remember it?

My Dad is the most important man in my life. He’s taught me more about life than I could possibly express in a blog post. He has fun, he works hard, he puts family first, and does his best to make everyone feel welcome and included in everything he does.

He is a craftsman, an artist, teacher, musician, comedian, and is humble about it all. Every moment I spend with my Dad, I learn how to be a better person.

Why can I not remember that his birthday is September 18th?

I think I know the answer. He told me the answer a long time ago – indirectly. I haven’t written his birthday down fifty times on a piece of paper. I have not repeated it out loud. I have not made a song or poem about it, nor did I make a flash cards.

But really what I attribute this forgetfulness to is my Dad. Sure he forgets things often, it’s a family trait! Thanks Dad. But it’s not that. I can remember other birthdays for sure. It’s because he’s selfless. He doesn’t require me to remember his birthday, nor does he ask for a present, cake, or a super sweet table saw. The reason I didn’t learn my Dad’s birthday is because of everything I listed before. He didn’t give me a poem, a song, or make me write it out. Instead, he celebrated life with his family on his birthday. To him, the perfect birthday gift is to have all his favorite people around him laughing, smiling, and having fun. Everything else he wanted me to remember, I remember; the songs are still stuck in my head (for example, I’ll always remember that “red means stop, green means go, yellow means wait, even if you’re late”).

This is the greatest gift my Dad has given me. The insight to know that greater than any material object is the gift of friends and family.

Dad, your birthday is September 18th. I can’t guarantee that I’ll remember it moving forward, but regardless – you will get a BIG hug, a huge laugh, and I’ll sing you the loudest Happy Birthday song you ever heard, and I may even make a four-part harmony out of it.

Happy Birthday Dad. I love you.