We were recently in Texas for Whitley's uncle's 90th birthday
party. My birthday came around while we were there, and MY
celebration was MUCH MORE staid than his!
Actually, this uncle's party started out like any other, with
toasts, dinner, birthday cake. The uncle is the step father of
four boys and one girl, who are now adults, and most of the
toasts came from them, because they welcomed him into the
family after the tragic death of their own father. The boys
had been pretty "wild" in those days, and the uncle had (like
most men of his generation) been in the military, so when he
quickly observed that a certain amount of discipline was
needed when he joined the family, he was up to the task. It's
to his credit that he did not come down too heavily on those
boys (although many would have in that situation, since they
were basically running wild) but was always fair and even-
handed, and this was reflected in their toasts to him.
After dinner came dancing. I was a little worried when the
little band stopped playing waltzes and two-steps and
started playing some of my favorite rock and roll tunes,
because Whitley freely admits that he has absolutely no
sense of rhythm and "dances like a drunken chimpanzee."
Despite the fact that he can tell when a single wrong note is
played in a classical music piece and identify almost any
opera singer after hearing just a few notes of an aria, he has
never mastered the spontaneity of dancing to rock and roll.
But after a few drinks, he was willing to try.
We dancers took over the kitchen and danced until we were
covered with sweat (the party was held in the country and
while there was air conditioning, it was having a hard time
cutting through the Texas heat wave). One of the
uncle's "boys" (and they're all still pretty wild, despite now
having professions in things like the law and real estate)
suggested we go to the pool at his country house, where we
could skinny dip. It sounded like a great idea, and those of us
who were under a certain age piled in our cars and headed
there in a procession.
Once we arrived, we shucked our clothes and jumped in,
making sure to turn off the lights that illuminated the pool
first. I've owned two swimming pools in my life, and I've
decided that the main reason to have your own pool is so you
can swim in the nude. This is especially true for women, since
our bathing suits are so much harder to get in and out of.
When I donned my swimsuit in order to swim some laps at our
local "Y" a few months ago, I realized that it was swimming
on me, so it was time to go down a size (a delightful
surprise). It was towards the end of the season and there
wasn't much choice left. I got a suit I liked, but I couldn't
figure out how to put the top on until I realized I had to STEP
into it. Men don't have these kinds of problems.
The next day, Whitley and I drove to a nearby town, where
we celebrated my birthday with some of our best and oldest
friends. We went out boating in the morning (even though
the lake where they keep their boat is so low that the marina
had to move the dock for us so we could get out). That
night, we went to an absolutely scrumptious restaurant. I
had a drink and wine, then went home and fell asleep.
But before we left for the restaurant, I got the nicest present
I could have ever received: My favorite two-year-old
sang "Happy Birthday" to me over the phone. It was clear
that he had a little trouble memorizing the words, since he
stumbled and paused a bit, but he did a great job and told me
he loved me too. I almost fell on the floor with happiness!
When I woke up in the morning, I was especially amused by
the fact that MY birthday party was so much more staid than
the party of the elderly uncle (even though, I must be quick
to say, he did not personally participate in the nude
swimming)! This just goes to show that you can't make
assumptions about people.
I remember the time we had an elderly house sitter, whom
most people would have assumed was "over the hill" when it
came to sexual activity. We came home to find sex toys in
the drawer of the night table and our expensive scotch
completely gone (she admitted that she had served it to her
latest boyfriend).
I like that! I resent the fact that people tend to stereotype
other people, especially contactees and abductees. I meet
plenty of these people and they're nothing like the nasty
things that are so often said about them. I like to think I
would be open-minded about them no matter what, but I
have to admit that being married to one of the most famous
of these folks is probably what makes me this way.
Related Entries:
10-Nov-2009: On NOT Going to a Movie about UFOs
20-Oct-2009: The Laughing Buddha
11-Oct-2009: The Red Coat
22-Sep-2009: Four Days
07-Sep-2009: Portents, Synchronicities (and Coincidences?)
12-Aug-2009: Held Hostage by Hummingbirds
05-Aug-2009: The Irish Milkmen of the Dog World
27-Jul-2009: Two Surprising Events
29-Jun-2009: Trickster Coyote
08-Jun-2009: Tool Users
