Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Just Another American Saturday Night...

As I suspected it would, the Republic survived Suzanne's move from our State of Concrete Gardens to the State of "Related By Blood Or By Marriage What Difference Does It Make Anyway?". More importantly, Suz and Ryan made the journey safe and sound. They left civilization early Sunday morning and arrived in Houston in the late afternoon/early evening on Monday.

It was profound how quiet our home seemed to me to be as I padded around it on Sunday evening. The quiet was more theoretical than practical I suppose. Suz is but one person after all and it is not as if she spent her evenings practicing on her drum kit or with her tuba or some such thing. My perception of the depth of the quiet grew out of the practical recognition that but for the Missus and me our house is now an empty house. It likely was not as quiet as it seemed to be. Perception became reality I reckon. It happens.

In an odd way the best part of the extended holiday weekend for me was Saturday night. Not that I have been in any hurry to kick either of my kids to the curb (in spite of any representations I ever made to the contrary vis-a-vis Suz or Rob) but that fact did not prevent me from really enjoying Suz's send-off. She spent the evening surrounded by her cousins and a coterie of close friends from as far back in her own life experience as grammar school (it was as it always is a pleasure to see Gabe Hurley and Dan Byrnes within the four walls of our home) to as recent in time as college and graduate school. Even those who did not really know one another appeared at ease in one another's company - given the spirit of the evening. There were tears spilled - to be sure - including those of the evening's honoree and my other #1 girl. But laughter was the night's most prevalent sound. Although judging by our recycling bins in the garage, the opening of beer bottles was the night's SECOND most prevalent sound.


Laughter is a sound that never gets old. Against the assault of laughter nothing can stand. That Mr. Twain was a pretty smart fellow. At least in my experience.

On her way from Point A to Point B, the Missus and I did what we could do to help prepare Suz for her journey. And as it turned out the final order or business (well, the second-to-last as it turned out given the last-minute items we stuffed into the car's nooks and crannies on Sunday morning) was giving her a send-off that let her know just how we feel about her in the off chance that we had not stated our case with certainty all these years. And how her friends and family feel as well. I know not whether I shall live long enough to trip across the dawning of a pitch-perfect day. If I come no closer than I did Saturday, I shall die a contented man.

Not to mention I have another photo to add to the top shelf of the bookcase in my office. My girls. Same as they ever were. Same as they shall forever be...


You know everywhere has somethin' they're known for
Although usually it washes up on our shores
My great-great-great-granddaddy stepped off of that ship
I bet he never ever dreamed we'd have all this

You know everywhere has somethin' they're known for
Although usually it washes up on our shores
Little Italy and Chinatown sittin' there side by side
Live from New York
(It's Saturday Night!)


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