Contact Kelli,
temporary manager
of Doug's
"The Wondering Jew"

2001-03-03 - 19:34 MST

March 3, 2001

Coming Event

I will be eighty years old, physically, soon. And for some time there has been an undercurrent of whispered activities that I couldn't quite catch. Finally I asked Heather what all the scurrying around and stifled conversation was about.

It seems that a party room at our apartment complex has been reserved, for a birthday party for Bastion. Jeepers.

After mulling it over a bit, in a diplomatic tone of voice, I went something like this, "My birthday party ?" Heather, "Uh huh." Me, "okay, then I will play if . . . . . I don't have to wear a long sleeved shirt buttoned at the collar with a dangling noose around my neck, an uncomfortable jacket, and tight polished shoes. My birthday ? Bastion will be comfortable, y'all gussy to your hearts content but for me it will be shirt, pants, and shoes. Be nice and I will throw socks and underwear in for free."

It would have been a knock-down drag-out scene years ago. But over the years Heather has mellowed and remembers that even at weddings I am the first to shed coat, tie, jacket and what ever else I can and still be decent --- after the ceremonies that is, she graciously said, "You old grouch, are you going to your funeral that way too ?" I sweetly replied, "When I am done driving this body, paint it pretty for the junkyard."

Sweet Heather said, "This is supposed to be a surprise party rather than the usual cake and coffee birthdays you have been having, we all want you to have one big one."

Remembering with a chuckle the big splashy party the kids threw for our fortieth wedding anniversary. Also in that memory is the short conversation with oldest son, when I asked him, "Fortieth and not Fiftieth ?" He grinned and said, "Well we didn't think you and Mom would make it to the fiftieth."

Now here it is almost eighty years since I blundered out squalling to meet the hostile world, being very pleasantly surprised occasionally and happy most of the time.

Then in a period of contemplation, I wonder, just how did I manage to exist this long ? Not my management I realize, my self destructive actions would have ended things years ago.

I was inspired by Heather all the way and by our kids as they appeared and grew. Inspired as I saw traditions built by the kids and in the process of being built by their kids.

Even so, survival was a close thing for me, by the grace of God and family I made it.

But, a big bash for me ? Well, I will really have a good time and visit a whole bunch with them all - - - but no party games, Huh Uh. No soft ball games for me either. But a lot of shootin' the breeze (breeze he calls it) will take place, laughing and fun poking, the dessert destroyers runing amok, will take place at the Coming Event . . . . . . .

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