Went to Nana's ninetieth birthday party today. She was confined to a chair for most of the day, due to severe muscle spasms in her back; a by product of a larger back problem that had her hospitalized a few days ago. My cousin, Megan, who's a physical therapist, knelt beside her and massaged her back throughout most of the party. The scene was a sweet one and left me a little sad. I can't stop the passage of time; I can't make her young again. But I love her; an ineffable and abiding love; and maybe that's enough.
I got to see my Uncle Dick and Aunt Shelly, who flew in from North Carolina to attend the party. Dick is a retired Air Force General and I peppered him with questions about flying. He explained to me Bernoulli's Principle and described what it was like to pilot a glider, alone and wide open in the quiet expanse of the sky.
My Uncle Gene regaled a few of us with tales of his youth spent in Ireland. The one about watching his brother put a live chicken into a meat grinder was captivating. After completing the story, Gene sat there for a few moments, shaking his head in seemingly sudden realization that his brother was a nut job.
At one point, someone brought up Dane Cook. I cautioned myself to keep quiet about my feelings concerning him, lest I upset those at the table who were fans of his. Much to my pleasure, everyone chimed in about how much he annoyed them.
I love my family.
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