Where am I? Saturday I took a plane (two planes actually) to Philadelphia to join my extended family in a celebration of my dad's ninetieth birthday. I sat on my sister, Donna's couch at ten that evening. Donna, a middle sibling, lives with her husband, Jimmy, oldest boy, Jimmy- Annie, studying accounting, Chris, a seventh grader and Matt, nine years old. I caught up on much of family gossip, watched some of the ever present TV and fell asleep on the couch.
I had time in the morning to catch a game of ping with Matt. I consider myself the best player in our household, but my son, Joey is pretty close. Well Matt, at 9, studies all the spins, serves and returns from the Internet. We played two games. The first 21 to 7. The second 21 to 14- I was getting better.
My sisters and their significant others arrived first with arm-loads of food. Gina with sandwiches, Nita with ribs, Fran with pasta and fruit and I lost track after that. My older sister limped to the front door, cane in hand. "It's not as bad as it looks.", she quipped. Then my Joey arrived. Bernie, second youngest with his wife, Eva, and the two boys and a girl. Brian, the oldest and a high school senior, goes to Brandeis (I hope I got that right.) next year. My sister (Sister), Maryanne drove my ninety year old dad in from the Mercy Home he loves so dearly. I was his big surprise as we have not seen each other in a couple of years. For ninety he looked great and still had his old sense of humor. I managed to squeeze in some one sided conversation. I would yell into his ear and he would tell me what is on his mind.
My dad has started oil painting again. He talked about how he does reproductions and that he is working on a Van Gogh copy now of women at the river. He says modestly that they are only reproductions but his friends seem to like them. He gives them as gifts. At one point in the party all of the boy gathered around him for a photo. Then the seven sisters joined us.
The extended family was also there in force. Of the Coyles Kathy, Trudy, Mickey and Terry were there. Kathy, the genealogist, spoke of her latest research on George Kennedy from Clogh. He stayed in Philadelphia we now know and Kathy contacted his great grandchildren in New Jersey- the Dooleys. Trudy, down from New Hampshire told us that she and her husband Bill were planning another coastal California trip. It brings back to when they visited about 15 years ago and with their children. They took every nook of our bungalow in Berkeley. Their daughter Molly is in Seattle and we will probably see her when we go to the Honk Fest in March. Terry, the youngest Coyle, is a principal at an elementary school on the Main Line. As here, her problems come more from dealing with parents than with kids.
Three of Bill Lynch's grown children, Loretta, Chris and Bobby came with their children. Bobby remembers being threatened by a gang of thugs somewhere in a Philadelphia bad neighborhood as a kid. He called his cousin, Jimmy Lynch. Jimmy was a tough guy and could talk a tough game. "Hey, do you know who you're messin' with. That's my cousin. Nobody messes with my cousin..." and so on. The gang left Bobby alone after that.
At cake time my brother Joey held the cake, while my sister, Donna, lit the candles. All gathered around and midst singing happy birthday my dad blew out the candles. Donna made a move to try it again. I called her off. Dad has a right to blow out the candles when he wants to. His sons, including myself (sans Vince) sat with dad for a photo. Then all seven sisters jumped on top of a finale.
About 50- siblings, children of siblings, cousins, children of cousins, mates, significant others attended. We started at 1 PM. A few headed out early to other engagement or home to rest. As he was saying goodbye, my dad says to me, "Great seeing you, Ed. It's too bad I couldn't hear a word you said." Coyles and Lynches were the last to go- exchanges stories and laughs until almost eleven in the evening. At midnight I prepared my pillow and blanket on the couch once again. I set my ipod touch to 3:30 AM and the alarm like a traditional rotary dial telephone like the one in our home in Sebastopol.
The alarm jarred me from a deep sleep. I just put on my clothes, zipped up my luggage, double checked for wallet, keys and directions and left. Thrifty Rental is located in a warehouse district "near" the airport. I drove to the bottom of Island Avenue and back, asking for directions twice, until I found it. I did not need that extra little bit of strain. And so the pattern of "hurry up and wait" repeated itself several times on the return trip. The Sonoma County Airporter took me to a Rhonert Park blowing and teaming with rain.
To see more photos of the celebration click here!
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