A toast to my dad
My father would have been 85 on March 29th. I think about him a lot, but especially this time of year. Spring skiing would have been winding up, and the hiking boots and camping supplies would be coming out of the attic. He’d be starting projects outside, trimming trees or mowing the lawn, (which he absolutely hated.) In his job as a professor, school would be winding up and we’d be turning our thoughts toward summer vacation and road trips out West.
When he died, one of the things I ended up with was a bottle of wine—a 1985 Chateau Haut Bordac—that he’d been saving for a special occasion. For a few years now, it’s sat on our shelf. Every so often, I’d look at it and wonder if, (and when) we should open it. We of course wanted to wait for an occasion that was “special enough” to be worthy of it, and fitting to honor my father’s memory with.
Last Friday we suddenly knew the time had come. Our dear friends Jeff and Vangie were in town for a one-night visit from California. We’ve known the Gunn’s for almost 20 years. They’re some of our closest friends and they both knew my father. We had shared meals, wine and stories around his large antique Mexican dinner table.
Now we were sitting around the same table with a bottle opener. Would the cork come out? Would it be nothing more than an expensive bottle of vinegar? Jeff took this picture of me as we prepared for the moment of truth.
The cork came apart and had to be strained out, but the wine was delicious! Rich, creamy, with a warm flavor of currants. I’m definitely no wine connoisseur but there was no question about it. It was great. We raised a toast to my dad, and to our long friendship with the Gunns. Interesting conversation with close friends. Love, laughter and wit… My dad would have loved it. He’d would have been leaning back in his chair, fidgeting with his napkin, occaisionally asking a probing question or letting out a hearty laugh.
It was only as I sat down to write this that I realized his well worn spot at the head of his beautiful table (where I usually sit now) had been left empty that evening with no concious forethought on our part. He would have loved to have been there…
In one way or another, I know he was.
Everything was special about that night. We need more!