Campfires and '56 Fords

It was cold. I lay in a fetal skrunch on the front seat of our family car. I could see my breath when I poked my face through the layers of blankets. The windows inside the car were fogged, but I didn't get up to look out. I wasn't going to mess up my cuddly cocoon.

The door of the car opened with crunching sounds. It was not the hinges of that old Ford, but the snow under my father's foot steps. Pop's voice came in a low rumble as he began to drag the covers, with me in them, out into the bright, cold Rocky Mountain morning. "Come on son, I've got the fire going for you. Come be with me by the fire." I was glad he got me and when I noticed no one else around, I felt special. It was bitter cold, but my dad had made a fire before he got me out. I like my dad.

As I sat there getting toasty on the front side and frigid on my backside, I noticed another portion of my bodily function had awakened as well. "Oh no!" I thought, "I'll have to leave the fire and walk the snow into the woods!" I resolved to just hold it as long as I could. The gentle low rumble of my father's voice interrupted my squirming thoughts. "Come on, let's take a pee." Wow, my dad said the "p" word! Momma said I could not use that word. Well, we were alone so I guess that was guy talk. Better than that, he tossed me up over a shoulder and lugged me to the woods so we could decorate the snow together. That wasn't all that easy for I was seven and had lead in my bones. My mom had told me that a number of times. Dad was a small man at 5'3", but he was very strong and toting his youngest was no problem for him. It was cold but it was also cool. I like my dad.

When we came back toward the fire others had begun to stir around. My mom was doing something with pots and pans and making noises under her breath. My teenage brother and his school friend were laughing as they went over by the gurgling creek. It was iced over but there were spots that the water flowed around. They were brushing their teeth and getting the foam all over their mouths and hands and down on their wrists. They were actually having fun brushing their teeth! I didn't know that was possible.

Momma's murmurs awakened into a bark in my direction. "Go brush your teeth little one! And don't make a mess like those two owl-hoots!!" I just looked at her with my mouth agape, wondering at her capacity to douse moments of coolness with embarrassments. I had not done a thing but was already in trouble. I also thought how unfair it was that my mother could read my thoughts. Dad had somehow disappeared and the moments of menfolk, warmth and Pee-Caso in the snow had ended. Now we were on Momma-time and I was the primary male figure that HAD to mind her.

I like my dad.

IT ALL STARTED WITH A LEMON

Kevin leaned over our table and spoke softly, "an anonymous couple has given $20.00 toward your bill this evening and asked me to say how much they enjoyed dining in the same area as you two." We looked at each other and remembered the lemon.

It was Valentine's Day and dinner out was the extent of this year's celebration. My wife had been particularly busy and did not desire deliveries or gifts, but was very open to not having to cook. We went to an Italian place nearby and found they had a 75 minute wait. It dawned on me that the preferred language did not include the phrase, 'over an hour'. Artful articulation adjustment not unlike children that take years to grow out of months. "Oh, he's already 27 months old." uhhhh, back to lemons...

My sweet love noted an empty spot near the bar so we wove a path thither. After I had ordered a glass of wine and attempted to settle into a waiting siege when she observed some people getting up from a nearby table. "Go get that table." she urged in a forced whisper. I grunted a little resistance as I began to move over to the table. I assumed the fullness of the establishment would render all available tables to the wait list. If I hadn't obeyed my wife I would certainly fell prey to the ol' assumption rule. However, Cholocate Day had given me a booster shot of cooperation.

Turns out that the five or six tables near the bar were up for 'dibs'. So the 75 minute wait was reduced to about 5. I love this woman! We ordered some muscles as an appetizer, tasted from a new bottle of wine and enjoyed the day, our company and the grace at which we had overcome an interminable wait. Our generous appetizer arrived sporting a huge hunk of lemon in the center. I noted that it longed to be squeezed upon the surrounding sea creatures. So I gingerly picked up my butter brothed yellow condiment and tried to squeeze. But it was too large and I was holding it too lightly trying to avoid completely baptizing my hand in the warm broth. So I added a digit to the two already assaulting the citrus and put some grunt into my squeeze.

Two things happened nearly simultaneously. The first, barely noticeable, was a couple drops of fresh lemon juice dribbled into the previously seasoned broth. The second, and several eyes noticed this, a giant yellow hockey puck flew from my hand, and shot diagonally across the room landing with a sklishhh, in the center of the dining area.

My first amazement was that the projectile did not hit anyone as it flew through the crowded room. Light laughter lofted from a few nearby tables and I noticed three or four pairs of eyes upon me as I tried to slurp off any evidence of the incident from my butter-guilty fingers.

My lovely wife laughed along with the strangers and said, "you'd have thought it was a hockey puck. We're glad we didn't hurt anyone...heh heh heh". I noted a sense of relief as my dear partner claimed joint custody of the moment. After 35 years, I've experienced several moments in public that she was perfectly willing for me to have individual ownership. It felt good to truly share this slapstick moment together.

Dinner went on wonderfully after that. No spilled wine, no dribbles down the front of my shirt. I did note a glance our way a time or two and thought they might be looking for an encore from the orchard. As we finished our dinner and Kevin delivered the secret message, we just nodded around the room with smiles at any eyes we might connect with.

A really special Valentine Dinner for two, including wine and lavish desert and plenty of left overs... and all for less than if we had fast food at a drive thru, and it all started with a lemon.