July 5, 2002

• My grandmother will be 99 next week. We’re here in Nashville to celebrate her birthday.
  
  Usually, for the 4th, the whole extended family gathers at a log cabin in the countryside near Nashville for a big ol’ potluck, where we cut watermelon with string and complain about the heat. And since longevity is a family trait, it’s an increasing strain on many family members to go out there, just from the heat alone. So this year we’re going to celebrate Ma’s 99th in air-conditioned splendor at the retirement community where she lives.
  
  Here’s a picture of the camp. Here’s another.
  
  That’s the setting. The story goes like this:
  
  Yesterday, since it was the 4th, some of us went out to the log cabin, the name of which is Echo Lodge, but which we call ‘the camp.’ Some genetic call surged deep within our beings and we had to go there, so we did. This included Ma, of 99 years.
  
  Thankfully it wasn’t as hot as it could have been, so there were a few moments of ease and comfort. We sat on the porch and looked at family pictures, old and new.
  
  Now, at 99 I hope I’ll be able to remember as much as Ma does, but she still has a few lapses now and then, where she forgets who she’s with, or what was going on. And a few of times during the afternoon she’d look at me and say something like, “Oh, I remember who you are…” and smile, pleased with herself, and pleased that her relatives were with her.
  
  But one time, she said this: “I remember you. You’re the one who had trouble understanding. Understanding what was going on.” Of course this sent my mind into all kinds of tangents… If only you knew, lady… And what else can you say to something like that other than to joke, “I’m not so sure that’s changed…”
  
  Anyway. It was nice to be there. I’m not sure what’s on the plate for today. Perhaps we’ll work on setting up the party, which is tomorrow.

  • 9:23 am
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