Jackson,
They told us you were a girl.
We still remember the words. “Well, you’re having a daughter.”
Then you came into the world at a tiny hospital in Montana. The doctor looked up, surprised. “Well, I guess you’ve got a boy.”
You were probably grinning about it the whole time.
The first thing you ever did was surprise us. The second thing was make us laugh. Twenty years later, you are still doing both.
Third of five. The middle child. You have showcased it a time or two. We think you are proud of that.
A couple weeks ago, driving back from Medora, we were talking about your siblings. You said, “Let me be me.”
That is you in four words. You carved out your own way to stand out. Because you are not just the funny one.
You are the relentless one
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We have pictures of you covered in medals before you were ten. You taught yourself carpentry. You build real furniture now.
Then you became an ultrarunner. Fifty-mile races. Marathons. Award after award.
The hobbies kept changing. The pattern never did. You pick a thing up. You disappear into it. You come out the other side good at it. Not decent. Great.
Growing up, we watched MacGyver together. We always wanted our sons to learn that. Be the man the situation needs. Improvise. Stay practical. Find the solution.
You became that for our family.
The family MacGyver.
Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might. Ecclesiastes 9:10.
You were obeying that verse long before you could read it.
Grit. Determination. Confidence. People talk like those are birthday gifts. Yours were built. By failing. By trying again. By mastering it. By moving on.
We do not know what you will do next. We just know how you will do it. We have watched it for twenty years.
You will look it over. You will grin. Then you will get to work.
Happy birthday, Jackson.
We love you. We like you too, which is rarer.
Stand fast, son.
Mom and Dad
