It is my mother's birthday. Her 84th.
She won't mind me sharing her age with you. Vanity has never been part of her makeup.
Of course, almost everyone responds with: "84? You don't look a day over [plug in some imaginary age]."
She will just smile and thank them. But she has always known that we all look our age. Because that is the age we are. Tautologies do not interest her.
I spent a few days in Oregon when I returned from China. There were some family trust tax returns to complete and file. That took me only a day or two. I could have flown back to Mexico then. But I wanted to spend some time with my mother and brother in Bend.
My brother Darrel knew I would probably leave before Mom's birthday. He put together a small dinner party. It turned out to be one of the highlights of the trip.
Some families celebrate with booze. Our family celebrates with large hunks of charred meat. A pork roast, in this case, baked with an applesauce and spicy red pepper coating. My brother is a genius at inventing new ways to cook food.
But the most memorable moment was the morning I left. Mom, Darrel, and I started the day in one of those breakfast restaurant that are the essence of Americana. Chatty waitresses ferrying pots of coffee. Plates the size of platters. Tables so close together, you are pulled into the neighboring table's conversation on how insurance companies are thieves. That sort of thing.
And platters we had. Big breakfasts. Eggs Benedict for Darrel and me. Mom usually jumps into the Hollandaise pool with us. Instead, she had an alternative almost as substantial. As I said, we celebrate with food.
A couple of fellow bloggers recently commented on how, in their 60s, their weight is now down to high school fighting form. I thought about that at breakfast while we talked and laughed about politics, Bend happenings, what the future holds (we are not a family prone to get stuck in nostalgic reveries).
I doubt I will ever get obsessed about trying to be my high school self. I am too busy tasting the next best thing. And one reason for that was the smiling face sitting across from me.
It was from her that I learned life is to be enjoyed with a laugh every morning. That the God we worship is a God that has told us to enjoy life while we love Him and love our fellow sojourners on this planet. Even the ones who forgo Eggs Benedict.
She could not have given me a better gift.
Thanks, Mom. I hope this is a great birthday for you.
She won't mind me sharing her age with you. Vanity has never been part of her makeup.
Of course, almost everyone responds with: "84? You don't look a day over [plug in some imaginary age]."
She will just smile and thank them. But she has always known that we all look our age. Because that is the age we are. Tautologies do not interest her.
I spent a few days in Oregon when I returned from China. There were some family trust tax returns to complete and file. That took me only a day or two. I could have flown back to Mexico then. But I wanted to spend some time with my mother and brother in Bend.
My brother Darrel knew I would probably leave before Mom's birthday. He put together a small dinner party. It turned out to be one of the highlights of the trip.
Some families celebrate with booze. Our family celebrates with large hunks of charred meat. A pork roast, in this case, baked with an applesauce and spicy red pepper coating. My brother is a genius at inventing new ways to cook food.
But the most memorable moment was the morning I left. Mom, Darrel, and I started the day in one of those breakfast restaurant that are the essence of Americana. Chatty waitresses ferrying pots of coffee. Plates the size of platters. Tables so close together, you are pulled into the neighboring table's conversation on how insurance companies are thieves. That sort of thing.
And platters we had. Big breakfasts. Eggs Benedict for Darrel and me. Mom usually jumps into the Hollandaise pool with us. Instead, she had an alternative almost as substantial. As I said, we celebrate with food.
A couple of fellow bloggers recently commented on how, in their 60s, their weight is now down to high school fighting form. I thought about that at breakfast while we talked and laughed about politics, Bend happenings, what the future holds (we are not a family prone to get stuck in nostalgic reveries).
I doubt I will ever get obsessed about trying to be my high school self. I am too busy tasting the next best thing. And one reason for that was the smiling face sitting across from me.
It was from her that I learned life is to be enjoyed with a laugh every morning. That the God we worship is a God that has told us to enjoy life while we love Him and love our fellow sojourners on this planet. Even the ones who forgo Eggs Benedict.
She could not have given me a better gift.
Thanks, Mom. I hope this is a great birthday for you.
