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.
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