Yesterday, Brenda and I had breakfast with Sherman and Nancy Casebolt.
They are on their way back to Delray Beach after touring the USA and Canada in a
mini-van, towing a pop-up camper.
They are into trains, and took pictures
of trains. Went to a model train convention.
The Casebolts and us spent
time together when our kids were growing up. We talked about kids, and grandchildren,
work, retirement, the economy, the political outlook.
None of us thought
it looked good.
* * *
Brenda and I bought a Swiss Army knife for Jennifer for her birthday. She
has the same birthday I do.
One year, her sisters gave her a bunch of flowers
and she put one behind my ear.
That was before she and Balder were together.
I was just an old guy at The Red Bar who liked progressive bluegrass.
No, Duke Bardwell announced from the stage that it was my 32nd anniversary
as a writer. So it was six years ago. And I was America's greatest writer. Not
just a stage father.
We're staying home today. I don't want to expose anyone
to my germs.
Especially Rowan.
* * *
Larry and Hazel sent me a birthday card with a check for $100.
Larry
thanked me for my writing.
He said it had kept him sane, over the years.
It kept me sane, too.
Of course, both of us are deeply crazy.
* * *
Dan Garber sent me a 12-bar blues he wrote. "Blues for Jack."
So it was a pretty good 70th birthday.
Brenda asked me what I wanted
for my birthday and I said, "Nothing. I have everything a man could want."