February 23, 2007
I thought that things would change drastically once the kids were grown up. Bob and I would probably eat breakfast slowly, discussing world events and philosophy. We’d share the newspaper quietly. We would take turns preparing our French toast with strawberries draped across it….
I remember 10 years ago being in the throes of birthday party anxiety, Arna’s ninth. I was making sure we had everything covered. I broke the news to Bob at breakfast on Thursday.
“The party is Saturday. You’re on duty two hours before, during, and one hour after. You need to get plenty of sleep because you’ll have to take the moonwalk down.”
Bob looked up from his newspaper, his teeth all black from his burnt toast:
“What have you done? What’s a moonwalk?”
“I called one of those places and rented a moonwalk. You know those inflatable little houses that kids jump in. They set it up, but we have to take it back.”
“ I don’t know about that. Those kids may go wild. What’s the weight limit?”
“It’ll be all right. You and Zack can make sure they’re not too crazy.”
“What if it’s freezing, or raining? Or snowing. It’s December. When is Arna’s birthday anyhow, the 15th? 19th?”
“It’ll be fine. The moonwalk will give them something to do. I’m setting up tables in the garage. If they get cold or when we eat pizza, they’ll be in there....”
“It sounds awfully complicated to me. When is Arna’s birthday, anyhow?”
Invitations, party favors, and lots to do so that the whole class wasn’t running through the house, chasing each other, and trying out big time wrestling moves. No presents, just the kids having fun. Two or three guys would spend the night and watch movies — Bob didn’t need to know about that yet.
It’s 10 years later. Arna’s off at college. Bob is eating his burnt toast.
“Why do you pile all the papers right beside you? Come on, hand over either the front page OR the sports section ... By the way, the birthday luncheon for your dad’s 90th birthday is Friday at noon."
“What do you mean? When is Dad’s birthday the 14th, or the 16th? It’s February. What if it’s snowing or raining? Or icy?”
“It’ll be all right. The weather will be fine.”
“Are you sure you want to do that? What if the weather is bad?”
“It’ll be fine. Just be here about an hour before it starts.”
I anxiously worked on the details. Invitations — my friend Susanne helped and delivered them to Presbyterian Manor. We made several trips to the store for favors, cards, and candles. Another friend, Dana, helped me find a recipe for punch. And then off to the store for ingredients. We arranged that the Presbyterian Manor van would bring Myrle and the guests to our house. I worried that they’ll all be bored. What should we do? What about the food? Beef or chicken? The cake from Munchers. No presents. I don’t know all of Myrle’s friends I need to work on their names ... What have I forgotten? I need to get place cards for the table....
We set up chairs in the living room. We would serve punch and little quiches and sit for a few minutes before going to the dining room for the lunch.
Ten years ago Arna’s ninth birthday party worked out. The boys chased the girls, inside and outside. Bob claimed that the cold slowed them down a little. They played basketball, tag, soccer, and everybody played on the moonwalk. Nobody got cold even though it was December 17. Taking down the moonwalk was a big deal, but we had plenty of help from the girls in the dorm next door who had been playing with the kids...
I just thought of an idea for entertainment for Myrle’s birthday party. Get Jim Hitt to play “Happy Birthday” on the piano and if they had time some golden oldies. He’ll be at the party.
The l6th came. The weather was fine. Almost everybody made it. I’d learned their names ... Let’s see, Martin, Maynard, Dorothy, Marrian, Ken, Modena, Jim, Joe, Russ, and Fred. Wilbur couldn’t come because he had to get a pacemaker. I told him that we owe him lunch.
Everything went fine. Bob helped people up the steps. We sat and ate lunch. Then everybody sang and Myrle read all the birthday cards. We toasted Myrle’s 90th with sparkling cranberry juice. We made sure everybody took home a KU mug filled with candy for a favor. The bus was warmed up and on its way back to Presbyterian Manor before it started snowing. A few days later I saw Wilbur and he didn’t even have to spend the night at the hospital.
I woke up early on Saturday after the party. I rushed to get the paper. I sat and read it all alone. Bob came down to the kitchen...
“Anybody for burnt toast?”
Comments
Esmarelda (anonymous) says...
Isn't it strange how some things don't change. For me it is stranger when things change and I don't. For example, we don't have a dog now but when the dog in a nearby yard barks, I rush to the door to let him in.
February 24, 2007 at 9:42 p.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
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