Sunday, August 7, 2011

A time to celebrate

After the storms, Saturday was a, cool, clear day. Days are only memorable when events make them so and the eightieth birthday of a retired coal miner was really delightful. The whole celebration was so lovingly and carefully planned that guests were treated to more than a glimpse of a devoted family man of God This man filled many shoes with distinction. Senators and other leaders saluted him with gracious words but the tributes of his children and family are what really resonated in my heart.
When we are eighty, the world is engaged largely through children and the friends who have managed to survive with us. If we are extremely blessed we still have friends to share a high school moment, exchange memories about working with a tough boss or to recall the frolics of our children. We sit in companionship with these friends who have travelled with us and need not speak because they know us and of us.
However, Saturday was a day for remembrance to hear of a life through the narratives of his family and friends with themes of sacrifice, loyalty, and heroism intertwined. What a life story! Many chapters remain to be written.

The music was feet -tapping good, the food excellent, and the peanut fudge so delicious that I ignored feelings of guilt and ate a second piece. So full of good cheer, I reflected on the excellence of this party and thought how much it suited my style and temperament.

My satisfied state was rudely interrupted by memories of my aunt’s 80th celebration. She arrived in a sky blue gown with a train of sea blue on the arms of a gentleman in his fifties who led her to a dais shimmering with lights. At 2am in the morning, as her guests reluctantly left, each with wine specially bottled, she invited us to her house for a cookout to see the day in. I was tired but I declined because I had to leave at 4 am for my red-eye flight. My eighty year old aunt amazes me, intrigues me and occasionally horrifies me. But I admire her tremendous spirit. I enjoy her sense of style, her joie de vivre. Now, I have two models to emulate. Would it be finger- licking fudge or woody wine?