Will You Still Need Me, Will You Still Feed Me?

Will You Still Need Me, Will You Still Feed Me?

My friend Bob celebrated his 64th birthday with us tonight.  Yes, I said "celebrated", and not observed or enjoyed, he celebrated among friends.  How old do you have to be before you just "observe" birthdays?  I hope it's a long time after the sixties.  I've known Bob since the Sixties, in fact.  We've known each other since college, which started forty-six years ago.  We haven't been in contact for all of those forty-six, probably lost contact for twenty or so years during that span.

But the miracle is that I live within five miles of two guys I graduated from college with in 1972.  Jim and I have been here since 2003, and visited intermittently from 1996 until then.  Bob made contact with us here in 2005? (I think).  But, he moved here in December, so we have the opportunity to celebrate birthdays together.  We will be following his example here, since he is the oldest among us.  A little wine, some reminiscing, good conversation and a feeling that you belong where you have wound up.  Not so bad.

Bob got to talking about the most renowned female winemaker he has known.  She runs a winery, called Barrett and Barrett.  Which prompted me to help memorialize the story with the following:

We drink wine from Barrett and Barrett,

"cause it's always just  twenty-four carat.

We no longer tipple

that darn old Ripple. 

   

Yes, I can't help myself sometimes.  Bob has helped me start playing golf again, my wife says I need a few more outside interests.  This is an interest that takes me outside, but I don't seem to have stirred much interest from the gods of golf.  I consistently top the ball off the tee, toe the ball when I try to hit an iron, and muff the ball when I chip.  Top, toe, muff and then putt.  Sound like fun?  Well, i have improved some, losing only two balls in the water this week (only nine holes).  I have hydrophobia--I  am afraid to swing a half club near any water at all.  But this is about Bob being sixty-four, not me shooting sixty-four (that's nine holes).  To return to golf, I still need him, and his Sharon still needs him for much more than that.  Will we still feed him?  Jim grilled some delicious lamb chops, which led him to mention his father never grilled lamb at his house, he called it mutton.  He was in Australia during WW II and all they fed him was mutton.  Which prompted another verse:

In World War II, Jim's Dad went to Brisbane,

But he wished oh so mightily it had been Lisbon.

Living in Brisbane, he never had nothin'

But that same old, same old terrible mutton.

Yes, we still need him, and we'll still feed him, even if he's sixty-four (thanks, John and Paul).  I'm thinking that getting to sixty four will be OK,  now that Bob's led the way.