Happy birthday to Cashel Byron Stewart, an infant who is now big enough to vote, serve in the military,and carry out every other adult function except drink alcohol, which ironically is one of the least adult things grown-ups ever do. As much I hate cliches, I have to express the old saw that these 18 years have gone by with the speed of a rocket. Indeed, I’m still wearing some shirts that are older than Cashel. (Come to think of it, some of THEM should serve in the military. Take THAT, Assad!)
At any rate, CBS is far away at college, but he’s naturally uppermost on my mind on this special day. So I’ve put together this little scrapbook, culminating with a little scrap.
On the day he was born (or the next one), September, 1995.
Our exotic Alaskan stroller contraption was the envy of all Williamsburg.
Cashel’s second Christmas, subjecting his stockings to a reasonable re-purposing, except that stockings are actually for wearing on your feet, which I guess makes this a purposing.
Dancing to the music with Cashel’s titular Godfather Robert Pinnock.
Music was also on the curriculum. Circa 1998.
I do believe we are reading Highlights magazine. I can’t see a thing without my glasses.
At a New-York Historical Society opening, circa 2000.
This is the receipt for the Skittles I bought Cashel on September 11 to induce him to hike the many miles home with me since the subways were all closed (candy was not ordinarily on his diet). His school, P.S. 87 was just a couple of blocks from my office; he had just turned six , and started the second grade, the day before.
Halloween, 2003. Two kinds of “Bat Man”. With little brother Charlie.
At the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, 2007
At the pad of his dad, early 2009. Ear buds and a baby ‘stache — guess he must be 13!
Age 15 at the brand new Luna Park, Coney Island.
High School graduation just a couple of months ago!
And now here’s a little grunge lullaby I started writing for Cashel when he was born. In the tradition of Stuart Little, I didn’t quite finish it until the honoree was big enough to beat me at arm wrestling.