Sept 8: Bluebird, Whirlybirds & 100 Years of Living

ONE of the most amazing things about spending your days with a 99.5-year-old man can be learning about what he hasn't done in his life.

Today, for example, as I was driving him from the hardware store (yes this town still has one) to pick up barbecue ribs for my Sept. 8 birthday supper, we passed the high school where still shock lingered in the air. Only two nights ago a senior cheerleader died when she was shot on the way home from their first football game of the season. Traffic moved, police cars made their presence obvious but quiet, and school buses loomed large as none of the students hurried toward this end of the school day. But the broadcast vans from news media told the story that was going on inside, football practice on the field looked somber from the road and still the long yellow busses moved slowly on those wheels that went round and round.

"I never rode on a school bus," said my father, who will turn 100 on Dec. 8.

My mind jumped into gear. Five-year-old kindergartener Anthony hadn't either. Maybe they could go together -- cinco and centurian!

"Don't want to either." Oh.

Well, what would you like to do? You should be having some fun this year, I told him. My dad is a new widower, since my mother died July 8.

"I'd like to ride a helicopter."

Now that sounds like fun. Maybe we can make that happen before he turns 100 on Dec. 8.