Table for Four

Dad's 70th birthday was last Friday. I have a hard time comprehending his age: will I live that long? what's it like to feel your bones and muscles grow heavy under the weight of seven decades on Earth; to remember that only fifteen years ago you walked without a limp? how does he look back upon over a half century of memories and choose which stories to tell? To commemorate the event Danielle, Ashley and I joined him for dinner at his favorite local restaurant- The Old Grist Mill Tavern. I generally find it hard to rally to do much of anything on Friday evenings, tired from the week and longing for the simplicity of enjoying an ice cold beer on the porch; Dad's enthusiasm for his celebration was contagious, though.

All in all it was a truly enjoyable evening; a table full of Bermudians sat overlooking the river in dim Tavern lighting, enjoying good food and genuine laughter. We had reserved Donald's favorite table, number 22, and were waited on by the same gentleman that had served dad and his "lady friend" only a day earlier. Dad ordered appetizers for the table and relished his entree of Maine lobster. I tried all the while not to be the nagging daughter that worries over her aging father eating too much.

The highlight of the evening came after we had blown out the candles on the Shaw's Bakery cake Donald had special ordered days earlier. The ladies at the table next to us, three sisters, had insisted on singing "Happy Birthday" despite Dad's insistence that he's "too old for all'a that." They sang, the table behind them joined in, and we all applauded. Over cake, dad opened his gift from Ashley. From under layers of blue tissue paper, he uncovered a box of his favorite tea, P.G. Tips, and erupted into cries of, "Oh Boy! My tea! Thank you, baby doll! Haaaaaa!" To say that he caused a stir in the generally subdued restaurant would be an understatement; to describe the gift as thoughtful would fail to do justice to Ashley's beautiful gesture. As dad hurriedly opened the box, anxious to share a few tea bags with our new friends a table over, I fought back tears. Overwhelmed with pride to be seated next to this amazing man, my father, I cried.

Donald loves life. This joy for the world around him is unbridled; it bubbles over in ways that are often unexpected and rarely seen. In our fast-paced society, surrounded by the impersonal, it's not always easy to hold on to his kind of enthusiasm. It's even harder to maintain the freedom and strength to express our emotions openly. That evening, however, Donald reminded all of us in that restaurant that a joyful spirit should be shared. He's living proof that it's okay to laugh the hardest, sing the loudest, and play the longest, because in the twilight of our lives we should all be so lucky to ring in our 70th birthday looking forward to "seventy more."