With my Aunt Katie's 100th birthday celebration coming up in a few weeks, I knew I wanted to make her proud and happy on her special day. Aunt Katie is my Dad’s sister, who would have been 120 this year. He passed in 2001, so she’s the last of his immediate family. I’ll be flying with my sister and her husband from Pittsburgh to Omaha, and then driving northwest to a small-town church in the middle of nowhere in Nebraska, where Aunt Katie had transplanted herself from Altoona Pennsylvania something like seventy years ago. Ironically, I am not my Aunt Katie's biological nephew. A DNA test 5 years ago revealed a surprise—a “non-parental event” (NPE) —I was not my Dad's biological son. Though he will always be my Dad, I will likely not inherit the Moyer longevity. The journey of discovering your biological family history can be filled with emotional ups and downs, but the insights and connections you make along the way are priceless.
Aunt Katie had stopped in Pittsburgh last November to make the rounds with nieces and nephews in the Pittsburgh area to reconnect and invite us all to her 100th birthday celebration. To make it a fun party, her formal invitation delivered last month requested no presents, but highly encouraged guests to dress in the style of the roaring 1920s. So I did what any respectable nephew would do: I researched online for the accurate period fashion. At first, I thought I needed a top hat, but I soon realized that wasn't quite right. Instead, I bought a vintage-inspired flat-top boater hat made of authentic straw (not styrofoam) with a black band. To complete the look, I dragged out an elegant black bow tie from my closet that had never seen the light of day. I generally hate bow ties, but how many 100th birthday parties can one expect to attend? I was determined to make a good impression and not look like a complete idiot. So, I set out to learn how to tie this simple knot. Like learning to tie a bow tie, my DNA surprise was a journey filled with unexpected twists and turns, but the rewards were worth the effort.
Did I say simple? Turned out it was impossible. The silky fabric twisted and turned like a double helix with a personal vendetta, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get the bow to form properly. Like my initial DNA results, it wasn’t making sense. The first steps were straightforward, but all the folding and looping had me utterly bamboozled like trying to identify a mysteriously abandoned John Doe corpse using genetic genealogy. Origami was never my strong suit, but it was as if I’d entered a quantum black hole where the laws of physics no longer applied. I was hoping to look at least as good as Albert Einstein at the party. (See his photo with bow tie below.)
Frustration set in, and soon I was whipping the tie to the floor, into the cosmic abyss, punctuating each failed attempt with a few four-letter F words. But I kept coming back like an aging prizefighter, determined to succeed and sadly getting his old ass kicked. After all, I’m a goddamed psychotherapist—aren’t I supposed to know how to teach people complex stuff? Ha! The universe and Einstein’s ghost had a good laugh. By the way, math was my worst subject in school. I read wikis, watched countless YouTube tutorials, and practiced for hours. I even roped in my wife, who is highly experienced in tolerating my stubborn arrogance (read: stupidity). With each failed attempt, I learned something new—mainly, that I was getting absolutely nowhere. My arms were so tired I couldn’t even feel them anymore. I set aside that mangled black ribbon for a few days in order to regain my composure.
I’ll figure it out.
One of the most “helpful” suggestions I received in the next bout was to practice tying the bow tie around my leg while sitting down, a little like a sexy garter belt. This unconventional approach allowed me to see the knot from a different perspective, understand the mechanics a little better, and hey, it made my leg look pretty hot too. After a few tries, I could do the leg but still couldn’t replicate the delicate knot around my neck. At least I was making progress. Eventually, I accepted that the bow tie was winning this heavyweight pugilistic event.
While I may not have mastered the art of tying a bow tie perfectly, the attempt itself has been enlightening. I learned valuable lessons; among them, the importance of seeking guidance. Imagine that—a man asking for directions! I also developed a newfound appreciation for the craft and skill involved in tying this seemingly simple accessory. Whether or not I perfected the bow tie, I’m proud of myself for taking on the challenge and giving it my best shot. I could have given up and bought a pre-tied bow. But I do find joy in learning new things, all kinds of things, even if this lesson comes with a deeper understanding of my limitations. Most of the important ones do. This made me recall a Jack London short story who wrote over 100 years ago that he would rather be ashes than dust:
I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry-rot.
I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet.
The function of man is to live, not to exist.
I shall not waste my days trying to prolong them.
I shall use my time.
My arduous journey to earn a PhD in bow tie-tying is a testament to the power of perseverance, self-discovery, and a healthy portion of humility. Despite facing numerous challenges and setbacks (some of my own making), I remained determined to overcome the obstacles and achieve success. Think of what my Aunt Katie must have endured in her 100 years. As I prepare for her 100th birthday celebration, I’m thinking about my own journey—both in learning to tie a bow tie and in discovering my family history. While my DNA test revealed a surprising twist, it hasn't changed the deep connection I feel to my Moyer family. I am no less of a Moyer. I'm grateful for the love and support I've received and I'm excited to celebrate Aunt Katie's milestone.
I'm reminded of the importance of family and the joy of celebrating life's milestones. Mom never forgot to celebrate each and every one of our birthdays, even as she was an adoptee raised by her maternal grandmother. She never had a relationship with her biological mother or father. Whether it's mastering a new skill or discovering unexpected truths, these experiences enrich our lives and bring us closer to the people we love.
While I may not have become a certified bow tie-tying expert, I am proud of the imperfect progress I made and my personal growth along the way. And I learned that I would have made a terrible Boy Scout. But you know what? Aunt Katie’s 100th birthday bash is going to be awesome, and even if my bow tie ends up looking more like a limp noodle, at least I can say I tried and laughed about it. And who knows—maybe one day, I’ll actually figure out how to tie the damn thing. Or not. Either way, Aunt Katie will be laughing too hard to care, and wouldn't that be a great way to go?
Isn’t that like life - seeing the knot from a different perspective offers fresh answers.
I have been humbled by many "attempts" at learning how to do things, that in my mind, "everybody" else can do easily. I tried to learn to knit. Nope. I tried to learn Photoshop (it's something I finally learned "enough of" to do what I wanted to do but it literally took years. Math? I had to take statistics at a summer school where there was only me and one other student. I'm a therapist. I have a therapist. She suggests this difficulty is due to past trauma. I don't know. I'm still arrogant (stupid) enough to believe I should be able to do anything anyone else can do.