Party Memories, Old and New

Sometimes you need a few days to decompress.

I needed those few days after my Dad's 90th birthday party on Saturday. We had more than 40 people at That Old House, ranging in age from 19 months to 98 years old.

We had fun.

Lots of fun. But it was an emotional day.

The most moving moment -- my Dad (on the left) greeting his older brother Ted:

You have to love a 91-year old who still likes his beer. You go, Uncle Teddy!

The brothers hadn't seen one another in several years.

Yes, I cried. Who wouldn't?

Another highlight -- brother-in-law Bill bringing in one of the several birthday cakes,
so we could serenade the birthday boy:

(On the right in the lower corner, is Dad's 98-year old friend George. He is simply amazing.)

Now, what you don't see because no one has sent me a still picture yet . . . is Bill picking up the cake after the candle-blowing ceremony, and dropping it splat upside down on the table in front of Dad.

My brother caught it on video. For posterity, and maybe YouTube.

I took no pictures. Every time I thought to take one, the camera was not to hand.
When I finally got hold of it, the batteries were kaput. Bad blogger, that's me.

But I'm glad my sister-in-law Doris captured this moment:

That's 19-month old Mary, one of Dad's great-grandchildren, bonding with our dog Dion.
Dion knows that it pays to stick close to small children at parties. They drop food.

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When my mother was alive, and before the dementia set in, she and I
always conducted what we called a party post-mortem on the day after any family gathering.

On Sunday, the day after Dad's party, I so wanted to be able to do this. My mother, who passed away in January of this year, had years ago lost the ability to have this kind of gossipy chat, but I will always miss this ritual -- the what we did right, what we did wrong, who wore what, who said what, and what we'd do differently next time conversation. I really wanted to hear her say, "What a great party. Good job."

I guess I'll never get over wanting to hear that, will I?

She would have loved Saturday's noisy and happy gathering of family and friends. She adored my Dad,
and always made a big fuss on his birthday. So, to my sister Peggy, and to myself,
I'll step into Mama's shoes, and say, "Great party. Good job!"

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I did a quick collage of after-party images.

Top row, left to right: the last of the stack of 45 silverware rolls in red and white napkins.
Coffee cups waiting to be put away in the breakfront. A tureen with roses from our own old-fashioned climber. A view into the dining room from the parlor, Happy Birthday banners still on the walls.
Bottom row, left to right: Leftover helium balloons. An extra chair visiting from the guest room. The tablecloths that were used for my Dad's table, with a cloth my Mom embroidered for me when I was still in high school; she wanted to do it in many colors and I asked for solid dark red; she agreed, bless her. And lastly, the coffee station -- minus the coffee urns! -- in the butler's pantry. And, Dion.



A Happy Rednesday to all. You can visit Sue at It's A Very Cherry World and see what other people are showcasing in RED. Click to go!

It's raining here in northern New Jersey, which is all right; we need it.
But when it's our dogs who are soaking up the drops . . . .

Anne took Dion for a walk, dried him off, and still ended up with this ragamuffin spaniel:

Well, he'll dry off and be fluffy again.
Eventually . . . Cass