The Big 80

     We left for Salt Lake at 2.  DeRay had reserved a room for us at the Marriott Courtyard. We promised Ed he would not miss any conference so we listened to it on the way down and went straight to the room to watch the last hour. 
     Then we checked out the facility. The pool is small, cold and cloudy. DeRay asked at the desk if we could move. We thought being by the airport we could see the airplanes. No, it’s beyond the airport and all we can see is a drab building next to us.
     We’re stuck. It would cost half our points to exchange. We know the pool is nice in the downtown Marriott. We stayed in it two or three times a year when the kids were growing up. They had excellent weekend rates. You could walk all over town; to temple square, wherever. Out here in the desert there was no place to walk. Besides that, a storm is kicking up. Windy. DeRay has a stomach ache so he didn’t want to eat so none of us ate. 
     We went for a drive up City Creek Canyon. We wanted to show Ed "Gravity Hill" but being a one-way street it doesn't work anymore. Getting back to the room, DeRay found a good movie for us, A Good Woman.  Then DeRay and Ed watched a Churchill movie while I read the Esplin RR.

  

       HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME. 80 YEARS OLD. Ludicrous is what it is.  We went down to breakfast around 8. It was OK. But we were a little sullen because we wanted to be somewhere else. DeRay and Ed finished their Churchill movie; I played games on my iPad and napped. When we got ready to leave I couldn’t find my camera. I was sure I had packed it but when you take everything out of the suitcases and it’s not there; it’s not there. Twice. Or three times.  I finally went down to the car thinking maybe I had left it there. No. So I go back up in the room. The maid  is already cleaning it. She helps me search, looking under the beds and behind chests.  When I walk back out to the car, DeRay and Ed are ready to roll. DeRay found it in the side pocket of my suitcase. How stupid of me. I know I looked there but not deep enough. It’s already a trial being 80. 
     Now it’s so late, we don’t have time to stop and get Ed a hamburger to eat at the Clark Planetarium. “It’s a long time until 5,” he reminds us. We park at 11:45. DeRay has checked the schedule for October 3 and the first show is at 12 instead of 11 like on Saturdays. Ed and I rush to the door. DeRay gets out as quickly as he can.  Locked. Knock on door. No response. I asked the Security Guard. “They don’t open until 10:30. They open the front door first. Maybe you can call them.” It’s 11:45. Quite a while from 10:30. I walk around to the front. “Planetarium Closed,” a sign reads. What? This was our big activity for my birthday. 
     What to do? We decide to drive out to Farmington Station; maybe stop in Bountiful to check out the swimming pool. We’ve been wanting to do that for a long time. I know!  We can stop in a sports store and buy some fins and other things to replace the ones I lost when my gym bag was stolen. “Sports Authority” the sign reads on Legacy. We drive up and around every store. No Sports Authority. DeRay even drives around the back and on a loading dock, sure enough, Sports Authority. By Harmons. So we drive around the front again. Nowhere. It’s evidently gone out of business. 
     Well, let’s go to Habit and get a hamburger. That will kill some time.  We have plans to go to Sully at 2:40.  It’s the lunch hour. Habit is crowded. I spy one empty table in the quietest part of the small hamburger joint. “Ed, you go sit there and I’ll order.” DeRay still doesn’t want to eat. The poor innocent people at the table next to him say “life” and he pitches the fit of a lifetime. Everyone turns to look at him. I can feel something is different. People are on high alert. I’m scared. Fortunately, business resumes. I go to get water. Big men in business suits are blocking every trail. Rude. 
     Then I see him. Orrin Hatch. The Senator was Utah.  “I wish I had my camera that was lost and now found,” I say to DeRay while we wait for the light to buzz telling us our order is ready. “I’m going to get it.” When I get back from the car, Senator Hatch is almost out the front door. 
     “It’s my 80^th birthday today,” I blurt to the body guard. “Happy Birthday,” he responds. “Thanks.” I ask another if he would take our picture. Everyone else is modern and using smart phones and taking selfies with him. I probably didn’t even have to tell them I’m turning 80 today. They could tell by my old-fashioned camera.  “Are you 80?” I ask him. “I’m 82.” “Oh, I thought you were my age.” The lady standing next to him, not his wife, said I think we should sing Happy Birthday to her. “What’s your name?” Orrin asks. “Jeanette – but my son goes into orbit when anyone sings Happy Birthday.”  They didn’t listen to a word I said. They just started singing – all the staff, the chauffeurs, the Secret Service, the body guards. I said 20 people sang but DeRay said it wasn’t that many. I’m 80. I've earned the right to exaggerate. I join in with reckless abandonment. It was so much fun. 
     I told Senator Hatch that we visited his office in Washington DC several years ago but he was in Utah. “I’m glad we caught you here.” One of his staff is the daughter of my good friend here in Kaysville and she arranged tickets for us to tour the White House and the Capitol Building. We rode over in the Senate cars (like at Disneyland) and had a grand time. 

  

     "I am going to make my sister, Shirley, proud, having my picture taken with the Republican Senator." She is such a staunch Republican.
Her husband was a Democrat and they loved each other,
raising an exceptional family.
A lesson for us all?

What is a senator worth $3,962,048.00 doing in a hamburger joint?

Plus, the government probably paid for it.
(My camera was set on "sunset" thus -
oh wait! maybe it was set right for the sunset of our lives.) 

   I couldn't resist taking a picture of the little boy in the next booth (with permission).

It’s still an hour or two before the movie starts so we drive over to Cabela’s.  
They don’t have swimming fins. We could have bought guns and bullets; a duck blind. 
The little boy with the Mohawk was there with his family.
His mother lost him and DeRay was able to tell her exactly where he was.

    “You know,” I tell DeRay and Ed, “on my 18^th birthday, I shook hands with President McKay.” In those days, conference was three days. Sometimes it was Friday, Saturday and Sunday and sometimes Saturday, Sunday and Monday, depending on what day October 6 fell.  President McKay always came out the same side door after conference to get into his Cadillac, which drove within 30 feet of the tabernacle. Those in the know, knew where to stand to shake his hand when he came out. I knew because while I was going to school, I was living with Bishop Terry and his daughter, Janee. They knew everything. That was the first time in my life I had ever heard anyone scrutinize the General Authorities.  They were neighbors and friends. They knew them personally and knew their shortcomings. I was stunned.  Growing up in Southern Utah, we thought they were all perfect. Bishop Terry’s neighboring bishop was Thomas S. Monson. He was just 27 years old and Bishop Terry was 55. Bishop Terry lived to be 92 years old. Friends to the end, President Monson visited him regularly and talked in his funeral. Instead of talking in a widow's funeral, he spoke in a widower's.   
     We loved the movie Sully. DeRay really didn’t want Ed to see it thinking it would frighten him but Ed loved it. 
     It was almost as good as having dinner with Brooke, Elizabeth and family. We had planned to meet at Robintino’s at 5 but by the time we got a hold of Amy, it worked out to meet her at Smiths in Farmington. “Why are we all driving clear down to Bountiful. Let’s just eat at the Chinese café here. It’s good,” reasonable Amy asserts. We hurry and call Brooke and because Klarissa had track, they hadn’t left Kaysville yet. It was such a wonderful choice. Quiet. For a while, we were the only ones there.  We enjoyed a nice meal and visit. Thank you Brooke and Elizabeth.

 The big 80th Celebration

   Karlton, Amy, Eddy, DeRay, Jeanette, Brooke, Klarissa, Elizabeth

  When your youngest grandson is taller than you are,

you know you are old.

Of course, most people our age have great grandchildren;

even great great grandchildren.

 Is Karlton taller than Klarissa?

 Dancing after the rain - or sprinkles, I should say.

 Has Ed ever had such a good time?

 "You're going to love this for your birthday," Amy shrieks,

glancing into the front room when we get home. 

  

    

 Returning to the scene of the crime.

Who me?

He also licked my plate from the coconut cream pie

Emily and Bob brought up.

"Happy Birthday," Amy posted on Facebook,
"Pancake will bring you a bird and eat your pie too. . ."

 Amy gathered and roasted pine nuts from Great Basin National Park.
No greater gift for a Southern Utah girl.

"I bet it feels good to be 80 doesn't it, Mom?"

Ed says the next morning.

"It does."

Loved the phone calls from Brent and my siblings,
treasured written memories from Brooke;
messages from some of DeRay's family,
and a hilarious personal card from Amanda
and messages from grandchildren in college and on a mission;
and nice friends
and the scrumptious cheesecake.
(You know who you are.)
Debbie, who shares the same birthday,
twenty years younger,
is celebrating in Hawaii.
That makes me happy by association.

It's going to be OK.