So 21 years ago today, a hopeless case performed the single most important task of her panicked and aimless existence. Pushing out a life she didn’t want for ideals she didn’t understand in an act she would ultimately regret as much as she would savor it. Jen Beckwith was born at 1:08 am on a starless Thursday morning in 1984.
Calling Jen’s life ‘frenzied’ would be like calling an atom bomb ‘loud’; accurate, but still lacking in descriptive fervor. At least I imagine the bomb would be loud, if the initial rush of heat, pressure, and radioactivity didn’t melt anything remotely capable of auditory reception into goo being flung about in an atomic hurricane. Born to a mother who would spend the rest of her pitiable life being drug behind the runaway horse of one chemical addiction or another, Jenna had an interesting childhood to say the least. Luckily, she spent many of her formative years in the custody of her grandparents, due in large part to the ineptitude of her mother. That is where she was living the first time I met her. Scottsdale, AZ: just walking through a parking lot and happened to start talking to her. Over the years we have wandered into and out of one another’s circles of friends or influence. I think one of the major reasons we kept in contact with one another, even as infrequently as we did sometimes, was my overwhelming desire to help/fix people.
I have had as much fun as I have had problems watching her decide what she was going to do with all the incorrigible energy that had been packed into her tiny frame over the years. I had the distinct pleasure of taking Jenna to her first rave, and tonight I get to take her out to a bar for the first time, this being her last ‘legalizing’ birthday, it should be a hoot. So on the birthday of Bono and the anniversary of the Golden Spike completion of the trans-continental railroad, we set out on yet another adventure or mischief and peril to celebrate the birth of my favorite sexy midget!
