Edging into eighty -- not at all a bad thing

Grandson Billy and former student/ choir member/present friend

James West at the birthday party

It's certainly better and more hoped for than the alternative, right?

My children (four + grandson Billy), inlaws, grandchildren, nephews, cousins, siblings (five, plus-inlaws) and friends Lydia and StefNi planned and produced the greatest party one could ever imagine.

 
The Salem UMC's (Benton AR) fellowship hall's round tables were decorated in red-white-and-blue (July, of course). The long, long serving table was a Southern Living scene with all the fruit, cheeses, crackers, cookies, sandwiches and goodies one could fathom. A sign-in table with small sheets available for folks to write their own haiku in my honor, a long table with some-stealthily-procurred and otherwise-gathered photos, plus a basket for cards. Unexpected gifts were slipped under the ends of that table.

 

Previously, the publicity included a flyer "commissioned by Gordon (son), created by Barbara (sis) and emailed by Carolyn (sis)." Gordon later posted it on Facebook and wrote an article (he's in Public Relations at Gulf Power in Pensacola) for the Saline Courier.

 

And what was I doing beforehand? 'Way beforehand? Sprucing up the yard AND the house, knowing that various and visiting family would be spending some time at Couchwood.

 

But Bermude grows from one pulling to the next, even through pea gravel, river pebbles and marble chips--all of which I'd de-grassed before--decorated various beds and the sidewalk.

 

Summer's heat meant an every-third-day watering of the north and west property-line plantings of roses, eleagnus, crape myrtle, redbud, spirea and althea. The life-giving water also caused the grass around the rock fence to spring up again.

Dead-heading the dianthus, the coreopsis, the verbena and zinnias to keep them blooming was necessary. Filling in bare spots with baskets of sweetpotato vine, and periwinkles put the finishing, last-minute touch on the yard.

 

Brother Guy, once of P. Allen Smith's employ, served as landscaper par excellence, and also re-sided the north wall of the long-ago-added-on back porch. And like anything new, making the old seem shoddy and seedy, he decided to repaint the other two sides so the entire addition looked new. Even to a new storm screen door.

 

But back to the present. Eighty-five people signed the guestbook and as many more sent wishes or cards to my Facebook page. The mailperson left cards from those who either lived in other places or who couldn't attend the event. Folks arrived from Searcy, Beebe, Tennessee, Oklahoma, Conway, Little Rock, Fayetteville, Hot Springs, England, as well as from the Saline County area.

But the attendee whose coming actually stunned me speechless was Karen Trout, pictured on the left, who drove four hours from the Piggott area. She is on staff at the Hemingway-Pfeiffer Museum and Educational Center in Piggott--a dear, dear person, who insisted that I was a beloved supporter of the writers' retreats there and she wanted to be here.

All this made me grateful that, as my daughter-in-law Karen said, my "village" was so supportive. I can never give enough thanks to everyone who had even the tiniest part in this wonderful celebration.

Edging toward and past eighty isn't so bad. I intend to live to be ninety, Lord willing.