My pop turned 80 this weekend, so the family took a two-hour-ish drive to go help celebrate. We were joined by One-hundred-and-freakin'-TWENTY other relatives and well-wishers. It was an amazing get together, the best part of it being how happy it all made pop.
I've always known him to be a bit of a gruff man, tough around the edges and the most intimidating of my grandparents. But the night of his party, which ran from 7 to past 11 in the evening, every time I looked his way he was smiling bright and just having a hell of a time.
He broke out, just for the occasion, a bottle of whiskey he bought back when he worked "on the ships". A Seagram's VO half-gallon bottle of the type we used to brew just to import to the states. It was a whiskey that didn't arse around. Government supervised and approved, it was the single most popular import during prohibition. Hah ;)
If he knew these puppies were going for several hundreds a pop on e-bay? He miiiiight not have dished it out so freely. Shh. don't tell him any different folks.
The morning after the party we sorted through his mountain of cards and presents, and finished off the Seagram's.
Happy Birthday, pop. Here's to 80 more.
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