Yesterday, we commemorated my Grandpa being alive for 85 years. It was a big family shindig. (Shindig is a weird word, digging shins would be incredibly painful.) We all got together and ate way too much food. Then we ate dessert. Dessert at these family gatherings is an event. We always makes sure there are 5 desserts, in case someone doesn't like something. We are fat.
I took a moment to reflect on my Grandpa's life and think about how long 85 years is. He can remember getting electricity in his house as a child. He lived through the depression and fought in WWII. He survived Reaganomics, for corn sakes! He also inadvertently taught me one of my favorite pass-times: purposely mispronouncing words.
Like many elderly people, he says things that are horribly inappropriate. We'll laugh about that later when we stop being mortified. And, like anyone else in the family, he can drive us crazy sometimes, but I hope he sticks around for few more birthdays.
Happy Birthday Grandpa!