We're planning a celebration this weekend in Dogpatch. My Pappy will begin his 91st year tomorrow and Ol' Abner will celebrate his 66th birthday on Saturday. At 91, gifts are more of a headache than a joy for Pappy...unless he can eat it or drink it. I will bake him a german chocolate cake and probably buy him a bottle of his favorite whisky. On Saturday, we will have an early afternoon dinner complete will all of his choice foods and Ol' Abner's favorites. Brother and Sis In Law will be here, and a couple of good friends will join us for the indulgence. Pappy's health is very good considering his years. Balance is not good, but he refuses to use a cane. He says he learned to fall when he was young and a cane would just get in his way. A stumble results in a tucking of his arms, hunching his shoulders and just rolling into a ball. So far, nothing has broken except a pair of glasses several years ago. This year's celebration will be rather low key compared to the last one when the multitudes came to honor Pappy's 90th and Ol' Abner's day was barely marked. Ninety will trump sixty-five every time.
Pappy laments that his years are going by way too fast now. We've noticed that his collection of stories has become limited to only a few. He is very proud of his age and reminds us that no one thought he would ever make it to 21 years of age, let along 91 and giggles when he tells us. The implication is that he participated in many daredevil escapades, but somehow those tales have never been told. He says memory loss is not really so bad. We may travel the same roads daily, but it's brand new territory with each passing for him. We may be bored by the same old faces, but he meets new friends every day. I read somewhere that a happy outlook can extend one's life, and Pappy is a testiment to that theory.
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