Yesterday was George’s 88th birthday. David and I, George, and David’s parents ate brunch at the Italian Market and Grill, and then we drove over to the greenway park by the Farragut branch library so George could open presents. George liked the brunch, but I think he liked the statues in the park better.
I liked when George lost his shoe at the buffet line. He says he buys his shoes too large so he can slip them on easily at night. George also lost a shoe at the Farmhouse Restaurant in Etowah on our trip to Polk County, on the first day we got to know him. That time, we were on our way out the door when he realized his shoe was gone. He thanked me for running back and delving under the table for it. Later on that day, at Mam-maw and Pap-paw’s, George’s shoe came untied. Pap-paw, who is only a few years younger than George, got down on his knees to lace it up, shaky fingers and all. George thinks Pap-paw is the best kind of saint. And Pap-paw is.
After presents and pictures, David and I drove George back to Oak Ridge. We had some diet coke and looked at all the art on George’s walls, where every time I look, I find something new. George presented us with some Courier and Ives calendar prints he had stowed in a dresser drawer. We each flipped through them for the ones we wanted to take home. David moved one of George’s typewriters from the bedroom closet to the sitting room, under a window. I hope George is there right now.
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