Happy Birthday, Joe

Happy birthday, Joe

Today is Shell sign day again. Remember?

Today is November 3. In fact, it’s November 3, 1960. I am a Navy lieutenant, a two-striper, 25 years old, an officer at the U. S. Naval Station, Mayport, Florida. This evening I am standing alone in a parking lot on the banks of the St. John’s River in Jacksonville, Florida, bowled over. The tall building to my left is Baptist Hospital. Half hour ago a physician came into the fathers' waiting room: “You have a son.” A son? A SON? Ten minutes later a nurse came in and proved it, a tiny boy cuddled in a blue blanket. They only come “girl” or “boy” but in nine long months of waiting the idea of being the father of a son never dawned on me. From age thirteen on, I only raised girls, Malone and Abney cousins. This is 1960, before ultrasound testing, and each baby is a surprise. Linda chose a boy name and a girl name, but I didn’t  take it seriously. The girl name I don’t remember. And so, after her father:

Urban Joseph Peters Weller

Not only do we not have ultrasound yet, but 1960 is also in the day and age when no one but doctors and nurses are allowed near. And so DISMISSED, only the father, I now stand in the parking lot too stunned to get in my car and drive home. 

The night is clear and comfortable. Directly across the river a huge brilliant red, orange, yellow sign is tonight my own Star, Star of Jacksonville, for my own Beloved Only Son.

SHELL 

blackness 

S - H - E - L - L 

blackness 

rays of light radiating out

then a brilliant flash: 

SHELL 

blackness 

S - H - E - L - L

rays of light radiating out... 

Fast forward more than half a century -- fifty-one years -- very fast forward -- Joe has been a light of our lives. Is now, and always will be.

November 3rd always brings my own Christmas Story. For this night is born to us . . .

Thank you, Linda! 

Thank you, God!

This is my beloved Son.

TW+

Dad