I have not been a very prompt columnist, as I did not get one written last week for some good reasons which are of little consideration now.
Thus, I will just go on to this week’s musings. This part of June is a good source for rambling on about various things. That is, it has Father’s Day, my birthday, and our 70th anniversary. Also, our youngest son has his birthday the day before mine. I recall telling The Blonde in the House at the time that he better not be born on my birthday! He was late in coming, but he did stop one day short. Fact is, he is worth it no matter when he came. In addition, we have a friend who is having his 80th birthday and has invited something like 60 nice people to a party at an impressive country club. I assume that the room was not big enough for 80, or he might have gone for it!
All right, it is obvious that our most unique day mentioned is our 70th anniversary. Folks can’t believe that two young people like us could have a 70th anniversary. A few have implied that we may be vampires. Well, if they visit our apartment, they will observe that we have mirrors, and have been known to watch the sun come up. There is a good reason which would explain it, but I have sworn not to divulge it. I admit that it does seem a long time ago that I went into a large room at the University of Pittsburgh, looked across it, and saw this cute blonde who had just come into the room. I immediately rushed over while cleverly blocking a couple of Pitt football linemen out of the way. That October day was the beginning, and we were married the following June. Best use of my vision I ever had!
Then there is my birthday. Everybody has one, but it is possible that I have had a few more. In any case, they come in handy if one wants to keep in touch. I believe that it is a nice thing to do, so I keep having them. Birthdays are the start of what can be a fortunate, unfortunate, or mixed-value life. I prefer believing that ours swing toward the fortunate side, despite some difficulties.
Birthdays are really necessary for the next holiday—Father’s Day.
If you are not born, you can’t be a father—or mother. I remind my kids every so often that if I hadn’t seen the cute blonde on that October day, none of them—kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids—would be anywhere around, and their mothers would have probably married some nice guys who turned out to be creeps. The same thing would probably have happened to me, as there is no one like The Blonde in the House. Part of life is being ready at the right time.
I now have a bit of straightening out to do. I had informed certain people, particularly the main filching culprit, that there would be no rhubarb custard pie this year, as we could not find any rhubarb. However, The Blonde waved her magic wand and found some. She will be making such a dish on one of the three holidays mentioned above. I will, of course, not indicate which one. Heck, she could even do it on Flag Day, which means that by the time anyone reads this, it will be too late! By the way, she makes her own delicious crust. If there is any left, she rolls the dough out and cuts it into strips. Then, she puts butter, sugar, and cinnamon and rolls them into snails. Nobody gets those, as I am right there when they come out of the oven. I do share with The Blonde. May you all have a glorious summer!
Barry Evans is a columnist for Villages-News.com.