|
|
Dalton
Roberts |
|
|
|
Last Sunday was my birthday and here I am like a pig in a puddle, rolling around in some great memories. I live by the sacred Quaker concept of “enoughness” so I have never cared to be gifted with a lot of “stuff.” I received a few thoughtful things but the best memories were the times at lunch and dinner with special friends. I am a glutton for fellowship with people I love. My first wife and our daughter cooked up a southern feast of fried squash, two kinds of okra, green beans, carrots, chicken and dumplings, cornbread, sweet iced tea and banana pudding. It is impossible to beat such as meal on this planet. I once heard that Martians do it better but the guy who told me looked like he couldn’t buy a Greyhound ticket to Ringgold and I doubt he has been to Mars, except in his mind. The thing I love about birthdays now that I am out of politics is that those who give me the gift of their time or any other kind of gift, do it because they want to and not to curry favor. I love it. It helps to separate the sheep and goat kinds of friends. When I was in office I got more birthday gifts than any man needs. The one exception was when I announced I would not be running for reelection. Suddenly there were slim pickings. Just thinking about it still gives me one of the greatest gifts of all -- the gift of a long, deep belly laugh. Except for friends who have waded through barbed wire and crocodile swamps with you, all the time you are in office you really do not know who your true friends are. You think you do but you don’t. Those around you slather so much sorghum molasses of praise over your eyes that you can’t see. If there’s ever been a person whose ego doesn’t slurp up that kind of sweet nonsense, I have not had the chance to run into him or her. They are clearly luminous and superhuman. When you leave office and look back you will see that some persons you just knew were your friends disappeared from your life like the morning dew in these dog days of August. Some who never slathered you up will surprise you by remaining constant and true year after year. These are the precious jewels in your bracelet of friendship. Two very personal gifts were special to me this year. One was a three page poem. What can be more personal than a beautiful poem? The other was an email from my son with 25 new song titles. Now if you are going to go to all the trouble of making a son, that’s the kind of son to make! Someone asked, “Do you think about death more when you pass sixty?” I think the biggest part of our death fear is regret. If you’ve lived a rich, exciting and fulfilling life there’s not much room for regret. And when so many of your dearest friends have died, half of your heart is already waiting on the other side. What a life I have had! A bush hook man on a highway crew, floor scrubber, spot welder, house painter, night watchman, teacher, school social worker, creator of programs for handicapped children, public relations director, manpower specialist, nightclub musician and county executive. What a life I still have: one-man show, columnist, songwriter, father, friend to the most wonderful circle of friends any man could ever have and a 1947 Epiphone (my darling wife “Eppie”) to hold on the lonely nights. Way back at the start when my father trotted me to a country store in Austinville, Alabama to weigh me, I never dreamed any of these things would happen. All I knew was that metal scale sure was cold.
|
