Friday night getting ready for Saturday inspection
Camp Claiborn, LA
Walt, Corporal Nelson, Jackson 7/01/1940
I am fortunate, profoundly blessed. One of my greatest gifts is that my father is still living. In a few weeks, he will reach 100 years of age.
Some time ago my father, a champion newspaper reader (Duluth Harold, Star Tribune, and St. Paul Pioneer Press), told me: I only want good news.
Hmmm. I thought. Okay. (Though he did say, when asked, that he wanted to be kept abreast of news in the family.)
Last night I called him, reminding him of his comment: I only want good news. He laughed. I told him I had good news for him.
First I had good medical test results, which prompted my call.
Secondly, I told him that he is well received on Twitter, that some Followers are happy to see a man just days from turning 100, out on a walk with his walking stick, determined to get there.
He couldn't get over it. Really, he said?
I said Really.
Then I told him that someone has already booked a flight from Japan to be there on his birthday, Nov 11.
Erik? He asked mentioning my son.
I said, Yes.
Well, you tell him I'm as anxious to see him.
Then we talked about my mother who flew up (as I say) nearly 15 years ago next February 19. From time to time I tell the true story which happened to me five years after my mother died.
It was the wee hours of the morn. I was between sleep and wakefulness. Then I heard it: my mother's voice. An electric current went through my body, my reaction to this joy. She only said my nickname, but a name she used endearingly for me. Yet it was as if she read War and Peace to me, so resoundingly was it my mother's voice.
As I always say to my father. This was my mother's way of saying - I'm just somewhere else. And why am I so sure? It was my mother's birthday, May 10th.
For someone not too far from the thought of heaven's gate, it is a caressing story--which, of course, is why I keep telling it to him. I am lifted everytime I do.
Then we sign off with the promise of forehead kisses and hugs.
Have a good sleep I say, which is a direct quote of my mother's.
Each phone call is a treasured moment reminding me of what a lucky girl I am.