By Anita Garner

 

As of June, 2021, I've lived longer than anyone else in three  generations of my family, longer than both sets of grandparents, longer than Mother and Daddy, longer than my sisters and brothers. None of them got to be 80, the number I'm now celebrating.  Getting to be 80  years old doesn't feel like a random event. It feels momentous.

 

I'm not the only one among my kinfolk with hopes and dreams and plans and I'm mindful of many opportunities the people who came before didn't have. I was present at the end of the lives of some of them and heard first-hand what they wished they could have stayed around to accomplish.

 

 

 

 

One of the last things Mother said to me was, "You're lucky you were born when you were.  You have choices I never had."  Both those things are true. I remain in awe of all she accomplished during her time, in places and ways no one could have predicted. I hope somehow she knows how it all turned out.

 

At the end of Daddy's life, he exhibited no restlessness about his closing chapters. He spoke only of gratitude.  "I have had me some beautiful morning walks." I wish he could have had many more.

 

During my 80th year I have the privilege of holding in my hand a book just published.  My family lived it but I was the one who lived long enough to write about it.

 

I'm a person of faith so none of this feels accidental or coincidental.  Wherever the stories come from, in whatever form they want to take, written or spoken, I'll keep putting them together, though perhaps not as driven as Mother, and a bit more grateful like Daddy.

 

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By Anita Garner

 

 

Facebook memories pop up, reminding us of previous posts and for me that's often just the start. One of Facebook's reminders triggers another and another and I'm off down different paths for the rest of the day.

 

I've written before about first love, Al.  He's on the left with his best friend, Gerry on the right.  Gerry dated my roommate, Linda and introduced Al and me.  Our first date was a double date to Lake Arrowhead for the day, listening to AM radio playing Frank Sinatra and Ray Charles.

 

Not long after came another Facebook reminder – this one showing it was posted by Al in 2015.

 

Gerry and Linda married in Glendale, California in a beautiful wedding.  I'm the bridesmaid with the sunburn, fourth from left.  Al is Gerry's best man, standing right there beside the groom.  The dresses were pale green taffeta.  Shoes dyed to match. Bouffant hair, the better to anchor those headdresses.

 

Oh yes, we danced!  Coming from a non-dancing pastor's family, I had no dance floor experience. Linda's dad, who treated me like one of his own, taught me a few moves in their living room before the festivities.

 

The best part of this story: Gerry and Linda are still going strong, traveling much of the time then returning to their nest in the redwoods in Northern California.

 

The next memory takes another direction.  Al left us soon after posting the wedding picture from his home in Concord, Massachusetts. When I look at these pictures, my first thought is there was a good man. UCLA engineering major who went on to follow his career passions, married a nice lady, had children and grandchildren.

 

For me, it was first love among other firsts.  First man I ever dated who quoted Shakespeare often, who took me to my first performance of The Messiah, who brought me home to meet his parents, whose table was set with more cutlery than I'd previously seen around one plate.

Thank you, Facebook, for the memories of lifelong buddies. the best  roommate ever, a romantic wedding and a good man gone too soon to his rest.

 

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