Ma and Pa Kettle

The folks had their birthdays this week. Pa turned 86 on the seventh, and ma make the big 82 just yesterday, so we pulled out all the stops to celebrate with them. The van got loaded down with three kids, two relatives, some soup bones, fresh rhubarb from the garden, and the pellet gun for grandma. We roared to their town to take them out to the fanciest restaurant we could conjure up. Dairy Queen. Grandma didn't quite have the time to make us rabbit stew before our dessert, as she was wrestling the gun and cartridge out of grandpa's arms to get her artillery into the garage- afraid he might practise on the china cabinet in his post-stroke efforts to get the weapon loaded for her. The garden munching bunny would have to wait until tomorrow; when she would be eighty-two and a day.


My mom and dad certainly put a new angle on growing old. They are pretty plucky to be living in their own home, with a large garden and lawn that they mow, till, plant, and maintain on their own. After dad's stroke, he bought himself a scooter so that he could remain mobile and independent around town. After grandma rolled the caravan, they researched and bought a replacement vehicle that she learned how to drive to get her and dad to appointments and church functions.


And God help the rabbit who helps himself to grandma's freshly planted rows of beets and carrots. She's not too old to down that little fella with her first shot.

Happy birthday mom and dad.
Thanks for blazing a great trail, but I'll remember to stay off it if it wanders through the garden...