Funny Guy Friday... Some old friends...

     Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So, I married a funny guy...
     Last week I attended a crab feast for the many people that volunteer at our church. This is the one and only perk that comes with being the co-chair of the Labor Day Festival. I was standing alone when a very nice elderly woman approached me and told me that we had done a great job at the "Labor Day Picnic."
     I was indignant.
     Picnic? Did you just say picnic? I bust my rear end to secure rock walls, moon bounces, pony rides, games, music, bingo, auctions, book sales, police escorts across the highway, food, liquor licenses, drinks, popcorn, cotton candy and icy treats... and you have the nerve to call it a picnic? A picnic is a basket with two ham sandwiches, some soda and a bag of chips. 
     My dear sweet woman... what we... dare I say.. what I put on... is a festival! F-E-S-T-I-V-A-L madam!
      Well... okay... maybe I just thanked her and asked her if she had had a good time.
      This was the starting point of a very nice conversation that included much discussion about her  children and her grandchildren. She was genuinely proud of each and every one of them, and they all sounded like great kids who have accomplished quite a bit both academically and athletically. One of her grandsons played college lacrosse at Loyola University when they won the National Championship. She told an impressive story about when this young man was a student in high school.
     He had attended a Catholic school and had to complete several service hours. Part of his service hours included going to an old folks' home and meeting with an elderly gentleman. He would regularly go and talk to the man and, more importantly, listen to the man. The two developed a friendship and both looked forward to the weekly visits. I thought, what a great story... and what a great idea.
     Then I had two more thoughts. First, I was a bum when I was in high school. I thought that I was all that and a cup of tea, but when you peel away the dashing good looks, the award winning athleticism, and the honor roll academics... I was a bum.
     Second, my kids don't know this yet, but they are not going to be bums. I am going to find them an old person... and they will befriend that old person... and they will play cards with that old person. They will talk to them, laugh with them, and look forward to seeing them at least once a week. They will leave their ipods and telephones at home, and they will make new, albeit older, friends.
     They will do this whether they like it or not.
     With that backdrop in mind... I came home from work the other day to find my mother visiting with Cheryl and the kids. My mother was spending the weekend with us and although she is not here every weekend, her visits are becoming more and more frequent. We all love having her, and I think she enjoys her stays.
     On Friday night, we started an innocent little card game called Kill Your Neighbor. Nobody actually gets killed, though. In fact, it is very similar to Crazy 8's, except the direction never reverses, so you can only kill the neighbor to your left... never the player to your right. Nobody ever wants to sit to the right of Grandma because nobody ever wants to be the one to kill poor, sweet Grandma. Of course, they don't like sitting to the left of the Ole' Bird either because "poor, sweet Grandma" is a ruthless card shark. Typically, the spot to Grandmas's left is reserved for yours truly.
     Anyway, Noah, in particular, loves Kill your Neighbor. I must say, he is both lucky and good so he wins a lot. I must also add that he is an annoying little winner... what... with his singing and gyrating and taunting. I am not ashamed to admit that I agreed with Grace the time she looked at him and kiddingly said... you don't know how much I hate you right now. 
     I told her to stop saying that... but to be frank... I did know how much she hated him right then. Funny thing is that Noah never sings, gyrates toward, or taunts Grandma. No, he apologizes to Grandma if he happens to lay a Joker on her, causing her to skip her turn and take five cards. In fact, they all apologize to Grandma whenever they play a card that messes her up. They don't apologize to me... unless BOOM SHAKA... TAKE 5 DADDYO! really means Sorry that I made you take five cards Daddy.
     I am not sure... but I don't think it does.
     The card games continued for that entire weekend.
     Most of the time it was just Noah and Grandma, but the other kids took their turns. My mom commented on how much she enjoys her little card games... adding how lucky Noah is. She also made it a point to tell me how good our kids are, and how they are all so willing to just sit and visit with her. In fact, Cheryl's parents expressed similar sentiments about our kids when they had visited them for a week this past summer. Grammy said how much she, too, enjoyed and appreciated the fact that our kids were so willing to sit and chat.
     At some point during the visit this past weekend, everyone took a break from the card games to prepare dinner. Not just any dinner... Grandma's Spaghetti dinner... with the "all day" meat sauce.
     When we were kids, my mother would typically put the sauce on in the morning and let it simmer all day. We would grab some bread and dip the bread in the sauce and "taste test" it throughout the day. On a good day, she made her magic meatballs. Magic, not only in the way they tasted, but in how they never seemed to run out. We would take the bread, put two or three meatballs on the bread and "taste test" the sauce (and the meatballs) all day long. Despite our many snacks, the meatballs never ran out. The all day sauce was not to be confused with the quick sauce that she would throw together at the last minute. The quick sauce was good... but nothing compared to the "all day" stuff.
    Last weekend's meal did not disappoint either. Everyone joined in on the preparation and we sat around the table enjoying the great food and the great wine. More importantly, we enjoyed the company of our guest chef.
     So my kids spent the weekend playing cards, cooking, cleaning and visiting with an old lady right there in our house... and the old gal loved it.
     They had spent much of their vacation chatting it up with their Grammy and Grampy... and they both loved it.
     Come to think of it, these are not just rare occurrences. They have been doing these types of things their entire lives. When my father was alive, they loved sitting around the table playing cards and listening to his stories. To this day, they think he was the toughest and fairest man ever to roam the earth. They miss him, and they miss listening to his stories.
     So do I.  
     You know, maybe my kids aren't bums. Maybe they understand how important it is for them to chat with and listen to people that have been around awhile and have great tales to tell. To play games with... to cook with... to clean with... or to just hang out with.
     Maybe my kids are way better than I thought. They are certainly way better (albeit less handsome, athletic and smart) than I was when I was a kid. Maybe they can make some new older friends some other time. They seem to love and enjoy the ones that they already have right in their own back yard. It is clear to me that it is working out pretty well for all involved.
     What could be better?
     Oh, I know. I have a great idea for this coming weekend... they can put together a basket full of ham sandwiches, a few sodas, and a bag of chips and go on a picnic with their grandparents.
     It's no festival... but the company will be great!