Tonight's Program Brought to You by Buck

I waited on an old poker buddy the other night. The operative word here is "old." Buck's family had made reservations (which we don't really take) for 20. We like the heads up, and were ready for their arrival. I didn't know it was his family who was the nonreservation until they started filtering in, waiting in the lobby for the rest of the gang to show. The thing about the lobby is that it is the pass-through from the dining room to the bar where we get our drinks. You can't help but notice who is awaiting seating when you scamper through to throw your drink ticket at the bartender.

Well, I noticed Buck's wife first. She is a stunning long-haired gray beauty who has plump cheeks and those teacher glasses I'm sure she wore every single day that she lovingly taught her kindergarteners. She hasn't changed in all of the years I've known her. As it turns out, her mind is as sharp as it ever was too. Wow. Buck, on the other hand, is showing signs of wear and tear. He looks the proper old grandfather, his hair white now instead of the salt and pepper I remember. First glance told me his mind isn't all there. The vacant look that envelops the aged was on his face. I couldn't bear to say hello to them for fear that he wouldn't remember me. ME! The one woman his poker-hosting buddy let play cards with the old fogeys. You'd have to know Charlie to understand the great feat I pulled off being not only allowed, but invited to play poker with the big boys. But that's a whole 'nother story.

Buck was the life of the party wherever he went, so it seemed appropos for his family to be gathering on a Tuesday night to honor the patriarch of the lively family. After they were seated, and I learned they'd actually be my table to share with another server, I had to 'buck up' as it were, and say hello to him. I was delighted that he knew who I was after a little reminding from his wife. By God, he stood up and leaned over the table to shake my hand, even. It did my heart worlds of good to see some glimmer of the man who was so convivial back in the day.... He was well-known for his good humor, playful teasing, and genuine heart. I hope that intermittent Alzheimers leaves the man alone long enough for him to die peacefully of something else. He's far too social to be able to tolerate any other projection in my mind.

What seeing Buck and his family did for me was start a reel from years past of my own life and the lives of his children. How melancholy, funny, startling it is to realize how many events we have all passed through living in this small town that I call home again after six years away.

Seeing Susie again was a trip. The only daughter, and the youngest, you can imagine she's quite a Daddy's girl. She is also hilariously funny. I used to ride to school with her when we both commuted to a nearby college. Fridays our schedules meshed so we could save on gas. I used to drive out to her house and she would drive. (The only saving going on was for me. She was married and wealthy, but enjoyed the company and the opinion when she'd stop to buy a few hundred dollars worth of clothes on the way home). Well, one time we got into quite a pickle. I had a car that didn't exactly like to start every single time. That being the case, I would make sure I was parked so that if that ever happened at her house, I could glide down her steep driveway and pop the clutch. That ol' car fired up everytime when I got it gliding and popped the clutch. It was a brilliant idea too, me parking so as not to disrupt her afternoon should that car not start!

The day "it" happened was a day I backed just a little too far to the back of her driveway. The house and garage were on a hill. The driveway sloped down....and so did the backyard. I *thought* if we just pushed a little on the Vega GT, we could get it rolling forward, I could jump in and hit the clutch and wave goodbye on my way out. It could've worked, I swear. I still blame that whole incident on her wimpiness. When I yelled, "Three!" and pushed with all of my might from my position behind the driver's door, I really thought it would be seconds till I was happily tooling on home. But she wasn't strong. When the car gained speed on its backward roll through her backyard, I had two choices: 1) attempt a jump into the car or 2) leap away from the car. Those split second choices just suck. All I could see was me falling under the car and getting run over. I jumped away and the car veered to the only tree in the yard.

It was a very difficult thing to explain to the insurance company.

We laughed about that disaster for years after it happened. Still, Susie had trouble recalling how she knew me at her father's dinner. Those memories, like everything that doesn't get used, get rusty. Only in recalling my ex-husband could she properly place me. Heh. "No, no...Not with him anymore, but we are good friends." "No kids, no. You? Oh! Nice to meet you Ashley, Jason."

There's Bob who used to work on my junky cars. My ex's parents were in an accident right by his house. My mother-in-law didn't survive it, but sends shooting stars over the highway there for me to see when I'm driving. Bob lost one of his sons in a similar accident, but was blessed to have one son who lived through it. I noticed he had a limp, and when he ordered his meal, he was slow in responding, but very definitely smart and articulate. Thank God for survivors.

Tom is adopted and has never forgotten that he is, feeling much maligned and left out. Even he showed up for what could be a father's last cognizant birthday party. He worked sporadically as a jack of all trades with my ex too. His son, the quintessential troublemaker in the trailer park where I lived on my own for awhile was also present to honor his grandfather.

Mark is a character from the past too. His daughter worked at this restaurant when I came back into town. He ocassionally went with us when we went to shoot dice with the Mexicans some nights. His ex-wife worked at the first restaurant I ever worked at (the very place I met my ex-husband), with her best friend who was my ex's ex. Oh yeah. Peyton Place. General Hospital. Soap. Desperate Housewives.

Their lives, as mine, have moved on. We are stunned by our growth, but mostly by our age. We march forward bravely, though we often don't feel like the audacious young adults we once were. For now, for us, it has to be good enough that we have the blessings of parents who still remember who we are and family who love us even when we are broken or wrong. I hope this family has that parental love from a man who deserves to remember them. Happy Birthday, John.