The right to be wrong

I didn't wake up with a hangover the morning after Dad's party -- the strongest drink served was hot coffee -- but my stomach hurts a bit. Yes, there were healthy servings of humble pie with generous sides of crow to be eaten at the 80th birthday extravaganza. It was tough to swallow, but honestly, I am OK with it.

Yes, Dad, I am putting in writing for all the world to see that we (some of us kids anyway) were wrong. It was wrong of us to be so resistant -- and vocally so -- to some of the "large" plans. It was wrong of us to be petty about paying for it or "working" it. It was wrong of us to second-guess your crowd estimates, too.

Yes, we were wrong but this one occasion where I am thrilled to be in error. It was great to see a large gathering of people who care about Dad and have been touched by his friendship at some point in their lives. I stood in the food line with a man who was a neighbor to Dad's family back in the 1930s and went to grade school with him. That was impressive.

What also was impressive was looking at a long line of people waiting to eat and to greet Dad. Dad told us over breakfast this morning that he didn't sleep well last night. He couldn't get that vision of the long line out of his head. "I just can't get over that! That was something!"

I remarked it was better that they were in a long line to view him alive and in person rather than a viewing line at a funeral parlor. He and Mom agreed. It's great Dad was able to celebrate his life with his family and friends while he was among the living. I'd say everyone had a good time -- even us party planners.

Of course, one special brother-in-law already pointed out we have only 5 years before our mother's 80th birthday and it better be bigger and better! Sigh... We might as well just put humble pie on the menu right away.