Thumbs up!
Looking at the Bancroft Creek calendar, it seems 7 residents have March birthdays--it's a popular month! Arlene's 90th birthday celebration was held in the communal dining hall from 2:30-4:30 yesterday afternoon, and I figured Mom and I shouldn't miss it. I found a card, signed our names, and was on my way, hoping the dreary, cloudy day wouldn't keep people away. Arriving about 3, I noticed the 20 or so parking spaces were nearly filled, and as I walked through the front door, I saw a traffic jam of walkers poised there to assist their owners as they navigated to and from their vehicles. Mom was actually en route to the party under the watchful eye of a staff member, and she seemed so relieved to know I had a card to convey our good wishes to the birthday girl.
Mom was handed over to me and we entered the "party" room, greeted the lively looking 90-year-old, and marveled over a set of photos chronicling Arlene's life from toddler-hood, through her high school and Luther graduations, and her eventual position as an educator in the Albert Lea schools.
Cake, ice cream, Swedish goodies, and fruit. What a great celebration menu. We greeted residents and guests as we navigated Mom's walker through the food line and found a table for the two of us. Haphazardly parked four-wheeled walkers made the path a bit challenging, but with an "Excuse us," here and a "Can I move this just a bit?" there, we settled ourselves at a table, moving Mom's walker to the side.
It was not a good day to have forgone Mom's usual apron. Though I'd seated her belly-up to the table, after a few bites, cake and frosting, then melting ice cream and a few crumbs dribbled onto Mom's shirt, her pants, and even her cardigan. I dabbed a napkin, wiping her mouth, and felt as if I had one of my kids with me at the table when they were toddlers.
Eventually more residents arrived, navigated their way to tables, and I felt pressed to assist those with walkers and food haphazardly balanced in their hands. As usual Marge cooed her thank you and I obliged Lois's request (how could I ignore her waving arms and "Jane! Jane!"?) for silverware her table mate had forgotten. Suddenly I felt very much a part of the logistical dance of the gathering.
Our table filled when Helen in a lovely bright jacket and Elwood with his suspenders joined us. Helen (moved in from Hollandale three years ago) comes from a family and teachers, and we chatted about the changes in the teacher-student-parent relationship over the years. Elwood was a bit quiet at first as I helped him position his walker and set his coffee in front of him. Then I noticed his right hand--it was missing his four fingers, and suddenly I couldn't help myself.
"Elwood," I said. "I see you're missing four fingers. My grandfather was also missing four fingers. He was an implement dealer in Kiester and…"
"George Wittman?" he interrupted? "You talking about George Wittman?"
A bit surprised, I admitted, "Yes, George was my grandfather and Hazel here (I indicated Mom) is his daughter."
"Well, George Wittman, Leonard Stevermer, and I all lost the four fingers of our right hands," he said. "I lost mine on a bad day picking corn. The darn picker kept clogging up and so I reached in to unclog it and…" His voice drifted off with the memory.
"So you lived around Kiester?" I asked.
"Right there on the Bricelyn corner," he shared, certain I knew where that was. "Right there on the corner with Highway 16." Aha--I did know that corner. Funny that….
Somehow our conversation led to discussing my implement-dealer father in addition to my grandfather. Elwood had bought New Holland parts from him and Helen's husband dealt with him, too. We were a table with commonalities.
Soon Elwood stood and moved through the maze of tables. I removed paper plates and cups, bringing Mom a damp paper towel to clean off her fingers as well as the table itself.
Suddenly the notes from the piano broke through the din. A bit difficult to decipher the melody at first, we all soon realized Elwood was at the keyboard playing "Happy Birthday to You." As the notes became louder and the player more confident, we all sang Happy Birthday to Arlene, followed by applause. Such a sweet thing to do!
But then I recognized Elwood had played with a mere six fingers. And as he got up from the piano bench and limped away with his walker, I saw the sun had peeked through the clouds, sunshine now flooding the room. A thumbs-up day.
