TWO weeks ago I attended the 14th birthday party of a strapping, handsome grandson. His head sits somewhere above me in the clouds and his shoes are a size 14. I fit rather neatly under his armpit, although that’s not actually where I would choose to go as he has usually either been playing basketball, riding his cool bike, or just finished another round of tennis. I am engulfed in a huge bear hug. It’s that generational thing where it’s okay to hug grandparents.
Subscribe now for unlimited access.
$0/
(min cost $0)
or signup to continue reading
That was the fifth celebration of this particular birthday. His mother was adamant that the words “birthday” were not to pass his lips again for another year.
Last week I attended a very different birthday party. This was an 80th birthday party, and in order to help celebrate this birthday Rob and I flew to Merimbula. The only form of transport we didn’t experience was a boat, and since the weather was barely above five degrees I had no desire to test the waters, simply hoping that flying during that wild and woolly weather wouldn’t find us at the bottom of the sea.
In a complete reversal of a teenager’s birthday party full of youngsters, middle-aged parents and even smaller people tearing around playing all those childhood games, an 80th birthday party could have been a sedate and measured affair.
The exception in this instance is that this particular octogenarian is still playing three rounds of golf a week, doing 100 laps a day in his pool, and playing bass guitar in a serious swing jazz band at jazz festivals all around the countryside. His wife, a superb jazz pianist, accompanies him in their band, and together they‘re a fixture on the jazz circuit, belonging to a wide community of fellow enthusiasts.
Festivities commenced on Friday evening, continuing all weekend. We flew out of Merimbula on Monday morning utterly exhausted and exhilarated after a weekend of food, wine and fabulous music. His extended family of musicians and friends arrived from everywhere to join in the celebrations, bringing along a menagerie of instruments and anyone willing to party.
His children, his grandchildren and his close family were all present. The speeches were stunning. This is a man who may not be known on the world stage but is a very dearly loved and respected member of his family and his community, a worker for charity, a golf club treasurer who kept the club afloat, a Rotarian for many years, a dad, granddad and husband, an honourable good guy, and a jazz musician par extraordinaire.
We don’t agree on politics or the state of the nation but I love him anyway!
Did I mention he’s my brother?
