Celebrating 80

Yes, I feel the need to blog. I've opened this damn "new post" link several times the last few days, but can't get started. So I figured the only way to do it is to do it.

So, last week we go to Birmingham for my Dad's 80th birthday party. His birthday is actually the 22nd, but Mom wanted to make sure that his party was not connected in any way with Christmas. When Dad was a kid, his father skipped out on them, and left my grandmother to take care of three kids. Now I'm not sure exactly when Ol' Gramps left, but I know that the family was pretty poor. I know that for a brief period of time, they lived in a neighbor's outbuilding, like a barn or something similar. Of course, remember that this was in a pretty rural area, so even the barns and stuff were well-maintained and such (I don't want you to get the wrong impression). Dad never has spoken of it much. I don't know if it's too painful, or if he's just gotten over it and doesn't want to fool with it, or if it just doesn't come up. I never met his father so when I was little it never occurred to me to ask about him. Anyway, Dad has mentioned that many times, he only got one gift (or sets thereof) that served as both a birthday present and Christmas present. So Mom wanted this to be especially special and distinct.

And it was. We went out to dinner at a place called Sweet Bones Alabama, kind of an upscale BBQ place. I don't know how upscale except maybe price, because they were out of spare ribs! How does a BBQ place run out of spare ribs? They had baby backs, but still! And on a Saturday night! (The only thing I can think of is that they overcooked a batch. Those things probably cook for 12 hours, and if you lost a batch, you'd be a day behind). Whatever. Then over to the house for cake. All the family was there except my daughter Susan, who was busy in Cincinnati doing doctorate-type stuff and couldn't get away. So that's about 20 people. Had a nice time, and I think Dad really got a kick out of it.

Of course, Mom's a couple of years older than he is, and it's kinda funny how they both tell me occasionally that they worry about the other. "He's not really in too good of shape," Mom will say. "He just doesn't have the energy he used to. " and from Dad: "I worry about her sometimes. She just can't seem to do as much anymore."

Worry-warts. Gotta love 'em.