MY EIGHTH DECADE—
Good grief!

Well! I have trundled into the eighth decade of life—and have never had a more rewarding celebration.

It started several weeks ago when bicycling friend Ken Johnson and I rode 70+ miles one day to celebrate our then rapidly approaching 70th birthdays; his but a week or so after mine.

Just a few weeks later a platoon of square dancing friends joined lady friend Sue and me on a weekend of hiking segments of the Appalachian Trail in four states near a very historic, Harper’s Ferry.

The following weekend Sue did a birthday dinner party for her grand daughter Mackenna (12) and me (*Gasp*).

Immediately preceding the day when my clock struck seventy, I did three assaults on my Rule Rd., hill with the mountain bike and survived another successful attempt on THE day.

That evening Sue treated me to a delightful dinner celebration; a marvelous conclusion to my milestone celebration.

I thought.

The following Friday it was back to our normal events with a square dance scheduled in Fredericktown. Regaled in the costumes of that western dance, Sue and I headed to the Don Karger’s to join our scrum of dancing and hiking companions...

...where I was ambushed by a surprise birthday party. The Kargers, the Matzs, the Meinzers, son Brian and daughter-in-law Kathy were co-conspirators. Dancing, hiking and bicycling friends the Hatfields sent their regrets.

They were on a previously scheduled trip to the Smokey Mountains, but we sensed their presence in our celebration.

I’m still tingling with warm and fuzzy memories, grateful for the health that allows for such geriatric exertions and absolutely thrilled with friends like these folks with whom I share life in all its glory.