Confluence 80

The Oxford Dictionary defines “Confluence” as a place where two rivers meet (e.g. Mississippi and the Missouri; Monongahela and the Alleghany forming the Ohio River,) coming together of events, crowd of people.

Now, substitute “events” for “people” and you will understand the week’s events culminating in my 80^th birthday and the many feelings experienced as it approached.

I wrote before of my reaction as my grandson Graham got into the loaded family SUV with his younger brothers Brad, and Duncan 12/27/2011, his Dad at the wheel, for their trip to Disney Land.  They were to be joined by Mom, Paulette and sister Tory for several days of family fun prior to Graham’s seven-hour operation for bone lengthening and the grueling 16-week rehab that followed.  His last words to me where, “Poppy, I’ll be back in time for your birthday!”

True to his word, Graham Jr. and Paulette flew into Bradley, landing at 8:15 PM, Saturday 5/12/2012 fulfilling his promise to make it back for my birthday several days early and 6 and 1/2 inches taller.  Sounds simple!  Not so!

The details of “decamping” in West Palm Beach, after the better part of five months, did not exactly follow script.

The older I get, the more the devil appears in the details.  Flexibility becomes fleeting at best.  The volume button on the worry box doesn’t always work.  This time it got stuck on loud.  The original plan was to load the SUV with five months accumulation of gear and rehab equipment and ship it north by rail.  At the last minute, Graham was told that he could not ship the SUV with the load in it.  That was Friday, the day after he arrived in Florida.

We got a call that the plans had changed. Jet Blue assured Graham and Paulette that they would help board Graham, Jr. (who still has metal fixators in his legs and must use a walker or wheelchair) and Paulette at the airport in Fort Lauderdale and unload him at Bradley International in Hartford.  Saturday morning friends of Paulette’s parents would pick them up in West Palm Beach and drive them to the airport in Lauderdale.  Shortly after noon Friday, Graham Sr. stepped on the accelerator of the family SUV and headed north.

We decided that on this end that Camille’s father Rich and Dorothy would drive to Bradley Airport to pick up Graham Jr. and Paulette with Camille and myself left to control the other three.

Graham told us that he would arrive sometime early on Sunday.  Knowing my son, I only half believed him.  It would be just like him to push himself to get home faster.  He called again around dinnertime from just south of Richmond to find out how Tory had played that day.  I knew then that he was going to try to make it back in time to pick the others up at Bradley.  The worry button was stuck on high!  All’s well that ends well!  He got here with time to unload the SUV and drive to the airport in time for their 8:15pm arrival accompanied by Brad, Tory and Duncan, bursting at the seams to be reunited with their Mom and older brother.  I stayed up watching anxiously out of my den window until 10:40, when two sets of headlights appeared coming down their driveway.  Neighbors had decorated the head of the cull-de-sac with a welcome home sign and balloons and also their front door.  The worry-box was turned off.  Our reunion would wait until breakfast in the morning.

Parental concern is a fact of life that kids acknowledge grudgingly on the outside, but gratefully inside.  No amount of “Dad or Mother stop fretting!” will ever change that.

Wednesday I woke up 80.  The thought of the number has bugged me for a year.  I don’t know what I expected, but whatever it was didn’t happen.  The aches and pains of getting feet to the floor were no better or worse.  There were no brass bands to greet me, although I could tell there was something going on of which I was not yet privy.  Dorothy wished me happy birthday.  Breakfast was a special treat.  Graham came in to borrow my handicap sign to take Graham Jr. to school. Jenny called.  Both wished me happy birthday.

The highlight occurred moments before.  Graham Jr. called.  “Happy Birthday, Poppy, I’m going to school today for a couple of hours.  See you when I get home.  Love you!” That’s the best gift of all!

Fast forward to Birthday AM.  Dorothy and I left for Madison, CT, about a 20-minute drive to join Jenny and Stan and Laurie Pinover for an early lunch at R.J. Julia, a wonderful, thriving bookstore followed by a great movie with Judi Dench, “The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel.”  Don’t miss it!

The family birthday celebration of Poppy’s 80 was roughly scheduled for ice cream and cake after dinner to take place after two lacrosse games and one practice, some time after 7:15.  I have always been big on as many wrapped gifts as the exchequer allows.

The lobster rolls went down quickly.  The clock slowed down, 7:15, 7:30, 7:40, I was getting fidgety.  I positioned myself on my favorite chair in the new den finished last summer from a screened in porch and waited for the rest.  Finally Graham arrived carrying Graham, Jr. followed by the rest of the gang.  Ice cream and two ice cream cakes and a cheesecake disappeared at a prodigious rate as my time approached.  One by one presents were delivered Brad, Graham Jr. and Dunc (the Three Wise Men had nothing on them!)  I was in my element.

Dorothy loves to browse at antique shows and estate sales uncovering an occasional treasure.  Two beautiful black and white photographs of early America’s Cup racing are now about to grace the den walls.  A new Navy blue warm-up jacket with the name of my destroyer USS Abbot (DD- 629) and my rank of Lt. proudly displayed plus several books rounded out the gifts I thought.  What a haul!

The kids were as excited as I was.  Just when I thought the formal festivities were over. Jenny said, “Dad, There’s one more!” and handed me a thin book with a spiral binding titled, “The Book of George: Happy 80^th Birthday, Poppy!!”  As I viewed the cover picture of me in my Tam and a ski sweater standing in front of the door to our Hansel and Gretel old stone house in Brightwaters, icicles on the gutter off my left shoulder and a large Christmas wreath with a red bow to my right, everything stopped, and I was suddenly that younger Dad with all the memories rushing back.

Jenny had painstakingly contacted family, shipmates and friends and assembled 36 stories and communications with 25 pictures in a 52-page book spanning my now 80 years in an emotion-provoking collection that now, as often as I open it, still produces tears.  The contributors, each one I’m blessed to call family or friend wrote wonderful glimpses of my past.  Jenny, what a great gift!  Thank you and thank you, Dorothy, and the gang next door for making my life such a joy.

Talk about a confluence!!