12 June 2010
 
Simple Joy



The faces around the table last night have known one another for nearly sixty years. Mom and Dad were there at the beginning, of course, and they are the last ones left of their generation. The Cousins are here as a sort of interim valedictory visit.
 
Can’t tell what is going to happen, and the event horizon is uncertain. The girls have that Irish beauty that has lasted well, and Young Harold, who isn’t that anymore, and me have a certain rugged charm, I suppose.
 
Dad was happy. I do not think he knows us all, or even any besides his Sweetie from minute to minute, but I know he was absolutely glad to see me when I walked in from the long road from Washington.
 
He clasped my hand in greeting and would not let go.
 
The Cousins are so kind, without irony of any kind, and they have gone down the long road with Old Harold and Hazel already. Just sitting and looking at pictures with Mom keeps them connected to their Mom, world without end, amen.
 
They got a variety of fun food- boiled shrimp, three kinds of sushi, rich cheeses from the stop at Pinconning on the road north, cracked black pepper crackers. Fun stuff. We can’t tell what Dad will eat at any given time, so a variety seems to work best.
 
He is so painfully thin. I doubt if he has been this skinny since the War, and we are getting to the point where there are not many who can say that.
 
Anyway, we were laughing and talking about family stuff that went back to the Civil War. It was a rollicking time, and between Mom’s Birthday and mine, there was ample reason to trot out the lavish cake that the Cousins got from Johann’s bakery across US-31 North.
 
It was chocolate to die for, sugar captured in several sedimentary and Dad joined in with the singing. We were still demolishing the devilish delicacy when he got up and left the kitchen. Talk ceased as we listened to see if the back door opened and we might need to form a posse, but after a few minutes he came back with his Greek fisherman’s hat, the one he had sewn his rich gold embroidered Naval Aviator wings onto years ago.
 
He used to wear that hat when he skippered his sailboat in the weekly regattas on the bay down below, and for whatever reason he decided this was a good moment to trot it out.
 
He looked great, and let me tell you, that was a moment for the ages.

Copyright 2010 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com
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