In a few days it'll be my youngest child's birthday. He's in his mid-twenties and I haven't seen him since he was fourteen, even though I provided for payment of 100% of his college tuition and fees.
I do know he went to an in-state school; otherwise I have no idea where or how he is, as his Mother, who works as a first-grade school teacher less than a mile away from my house (on my local "hill" running route), refuses to provide me with any information whatsoever about him. Divorce in Western society, which tolerates and enables the purposeful overbearing of the will of children by the most wickedly scheming parent, is absolutely unbelievable.
On Danny's birthday I'll have dinner at the Lost Dog Cafe in Westover in Arlington, Virginia starting at 8 pm and I invite any of my sons to join me. We could start catching up on the lost last decade.
For Danny I'm bringing along a book I recently read, Night by Elie Wiesel, winner of the Nobel Peace Prize. It's a chilling tale about a boy and his father, two Jews amidst the holocaust, each of whom is struggling to survive overwhelming societal forces.
"All around me, there was silence now, broken only by moaning. In front of the block, the SS were giving orders. An officer passed between the bunks. My father was pleading: 'My son, water...I'm burning up...my insides...'
'Silence over there!' barked the officer.
'Eliezer,' continued my father. 'Water...'
The officer came closer and shouted to him to be silent. But my father did not hear. He continued to call me. The officer wielded his club and dealt him a violent blow to the head.
I didn't move. I was afraid, my body was afraid of another blow, this time to my head. My father groaned once more, I heard: 'Eliezer...'
I could see that he was still breathing--in gasps. I didn't move."
The son's broken father was taken away that night, to the crematorium.
"No prayers were said over his tomb. No candle lit in his memory. His last word had been my name. He had called out to me and I had not answered.
I did not weep, and it pained me that I did not weep. But I was out of tears. And deep inside of me, if I could have searched the recesses of my feeble conscience, I might have found something like: Free at last!..."
Have a happy birthday Danny, and I hope to see you then.