Yesterday, July 18, would have been my father's birthday. He was born in 1921, so he would have been... well, old! After work we joined friends Scott and Marion with the intent of going to a steak supper at a Masonic Lodge in nearby Washington, Maine. I thought this was an excellent plan, as my dad had been a Mason, and I could envision him being pleased that I was supporting that organization on his birthday.
We arrived at the lodge, and there were some very impressive steaks being cooked on a huge grill. The smell of beef sizzling over charcoal permeated the summer evening air. You can imagine how sad we were when they informed us that they had just run out of steaks.
Luckily, we had driven past a public supper at a Grange hall on the way to our original destination. So, for $21 dollars all four of us were seated at a massive table, and treated to bowl after bowl of food, passed family style. There was potato salad, Cole slaw, American chop suey, biscuits, macaroni and cheese and a vast selection of pies for dessert. I chose lemon, dad's favorite.
My dad was a good man. He possessed a quick wit, a keen intellect, a serious work ethic and kept a good tan. He liked to drive white convertibles, and he typed all his correspondences in capital letters in green ink on an antique Royal typewriter, (which I inherited.) He loved my mother and his five kids, was generous and kind, and had a keen appreciation for the simple things in life. Like supper at a Grange hall with friends and a cool slice of lemon pie on a summer evening. Happy Birthday dad. I miss you.
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