In our family we tend to celebrate birthdays marking a decade of life with extra relish. My "dad" just began his nintieth year of life. Several months of anticipation culminated in a come-and-go-reception two days after his birthday. On the day between, Ol' Abner arrived at the magic age of 65, though no one much noticed. He reminded me he was now Medicare elegible on the 1st day of the month and somehow, that seemed more important than the actual arrival of the new age. The joy of the day evolved around Pappy's becoming ninety. We lost Mammy in 2000. She was diagnosed with a fast growing terminal cancer just a week prior to Pappy's 80th birthday. That milestone came and went understandably with no fanfare. We had joyfully celebrated his 70th birthday with an impromptu call to family and friends to come for lunch at our home. Thankfully they all brought food since I was nursing a broken wrist at the time. Twenty years has passed and this party was not a spur of the moment gathering. A conversation with the honoree last summer planted the seed of celebration. He pointed out that if he "lived til spring" that he'd be 90 years old with a bit of awe. Thinking I might hear some resignation of life in his voice, I fell on my old standby as a remedy. We must have a party!
After much discussing among siblings, a decision was made to have the party in West Texas. Most of his contemporaries and family live in the area or travel there often. Baby sister and her husband retired to a small West Texas town a couple of years ago. She agreed to host the party and we set about tracking down addresses. As the guest list was compiled, Pappy lamented that he might not recognize the arriving guests or worse, not remember them at all. Conversations leading up to the day included reminders of expected arrivals and discussions of his history with them. On the day of the party, he coped well. As guests arrived we escorted most of them to him and made sure he was told of each arrival's identity. He basked in the attention, but moreso in the realization that all these people came in his honor. He has always taken great pride in this "blended family." You see, he is really my stepdad. Brother is really my stepbrother. Mammy was my mother, Brother's mother had passed away earlier, and when his first child was born, she tagged the new grandparents "Mammy and PaPa". Baby sis, Brother and I have been siblings longer than not. As we celebrated this new decade for the family patriarch we came to appreciate the fullness of the blended heritage we have. We look forward to another party on his 100th birthday. We've all slowed down since that impromptu seventieth. Better start working on that next one now!
