For his birthday today, my baby got some blue suede shoes – saddle oxfords – along with a more standard pair (he picked them out when I took him shopping) and a woodworking tool-thing he wanted.
I really like the whimsy of the blue suede shoes, and the fact that they’re very much ones that Daddy would have worn and of which dearly departed Bill would have said, “Boy, aren’t those snazzy?!”
That’s my guy. Hip, but retro and snazzy. Love him madly. He’s the cutest, spryest 62-year-old you’d ever meet and people never believe his age.
Wonderful grandfather, understanding dad (no need to add step – they’re all our kids), loving son, son-in-law, brother and brother-in-law. That’s John.
He was also his big sister’s 3rd birthday present – he was born on her birthday, by induction, as the best present or the biggest trick a little girl could get. You’ll have to ask Kitty which version is correct, but she’s pretty crazy about John and he her, so I’m guessing the former.
So this is Kitty’s happy birthday, too. And their younger cousin JoAnne. And John’s lifelong friend from back home, Paul Busoli. And our Little Rock friends Mike and Mike.
Plus Loretta Lynn (whom, oddly, one of Willie Nelson’s roadies told me I look like when I was about 20 – it was the ’70s).
Tonight we’re going to Curry in a Hurry with Cathy and Paul to celebrate. Rhonda and Mike came over with Italian Cream Cake she’d made in Mike’s honor but wanted to share.
And it’s a beautiful day for my guy. All this inspires me to write him a birthday poem.
The man I wed still makes me laugh most every single day,
and when he’s dressed in suit and tie, he takes my breath away.
But even when he’s slouchy, he’s still so very cute
the annoying little things he does are really rather moot.
The way he loves our offspring is unconditionally, the way
a dad and granddad should – and the way that he loves me.
So John, dear, happy birthday, though this poem is rather lame.
I’ll love you for forever and “Lucky” is my name.