James O. Barnes

I recently read a report from 2008, in LiveScience, regarding the color of blue eyes. It stated that those with blue eyes all have a common ancestor. It turns out, that this common ancestor was a mutant. Not in the literal sense mind you, but genetically. Somewhere around 6,000 to 10,000 years ago some individual was the first to be born with a set of baby blues. Now before this exotic addition to human evolution, everyone had the same boring brown (sorry, no offense to many of my family members and the world all over). Don’t get me wrong, I have looked into many-a-deep dark pools and found myself lost. I’m just stating facts. Before this, there was just brown. Hey, let’s not forget, I’m the mutant here. The mutation in the control of melanin (it controls our pigment) also explains why we mutants burn in the sun easier as well.

So anyway, at some point along the line it was decided, decreed, or whatever, that there would be henceforth a new selection in the gene pool, blue eyes. Maybe it was nature’s way of mixing it up a little. You know, broaden the selection criteria in a mate, I don’t know. I know my wife likes my baby blues. My kids, I have two blue-eyed and one brown. Yes, I love them all, mixed up or not.

In any case, because of the science involved, I understand that the genetic make-up that creates blue eyes has not been around long enough to get as jumbled as those with brown eyes. This is how scientists can tell that we mutants haven’t been around as long. Does that also mean that we are not as mixed up as the rest of the world? Now that explains the most of the rest of the family (kidding). But at least there is an excuse, right?

 So, as I stated in the beginning, I am a blue-eyed mutant and I accept that. I knew I liked the X-Men comics for a reason. I just want to know one thing, where in the heck are my superpowers?

On Saturday we had our annual spring bonfire. Each year the family gathers around the first bonfire of the season held on the first day of spring. This is a special time as it symbolizes many different things for each of us. For the Pirate it is the joy of roasting hot dogs. For my older son, the Bear, it meant that he could sit there and poke it with a stick. Then, when we were done, he could spend a half of an hour on his own spraying it with a hose. For me, it is a time of new beginnings and the joy of spending time with my boys. Time that I am afraid flies by all too fast. For the Princess, my wife, let us just say that I thank her for indulging me.

As part of this annual tradition we burn the dried Christmas tree from the last Christmas. No, the tree has not been hidden away in a corner of the living room dropping needles since December. After New Year’s Day, the tree goes outside to sit lonely in the snow. Periodically a squirrel or bird will take shelter in it while crossing the yard and keep it company.

After prepping the fire base with wood cut from a cherry tree three years prior, the usual inevitable question is asked, “Who gets to light the fire this year?” “You said I could light it this year.” “Nu-uh, you lit it last year,” and so on. To which I respond, “Hey! It’s a bonfire. You both can light your own side.” Not an easy task with the wind blowing all about, but my boys and I managed. They have been taught fire building and safety for many years.

With the fire finally lit and the coals burning bright we soon amassed a large amount of hot coals. The hotdogs and marshmallows were set on a bench off to the side. Hey, what’s a bonfire without hotdogs and marshmallows? These would be saved for after the initial burn of the pine tree. Pine trees flame up fast you know. Except for this year, this year it didn’t, and that made me think.

The usual erupting fireball did not ensue. Sure some of the needles were still a little green as a result of a wet winter, but it had been dry for days with warm temperatures. We persevered, standing around the now slow burning tree. Flames would flash brightly each time the wind picked up. Still, it refused to go up all at once like every year before. I’m not superstitious, but I could not keep from thinking that the slow burn represented the coming year. It was just a little nagging voice in the back of my head saying that I needed to be prepared. That or it was just the flames hypnotizing me.

The tree was eventually coaxed into full blaze with a log carefully placed here and another one there. We were all hypnotized now as the spring flames burned away winter. Perfect hot dogs and caramelized marshmallows were slow cooked with patience and eaten, and we welcomed the new spring and all that it had to offer.

I chose to take the slow burning tree as an omen for good, a sign to slow down and not to be in such a hurry. Take the time to enjoy life. Not just my life, but that of my life with family and friends as well. As the fire took a little extra work and effort, so too does the lasting relationships that we choose to enter into everyday. Taking the time to build the memories with my wife and boys that we can look back on fondly, memories for when they no longer want to build a fire in the backyard with dad. A log here, a conversation there, the coming year and the years to come will be worth it.