When husband John joined a train club four hours away, I told him my hobby was going out to eat. Bless his heart, he honored that. Before he died, we were in the habit of eating at a restaurant on grandson David’s day off and on Sunday. I began to take a photo of the two men across the table. I’m very pleased to have those shots now, keepsakes of relaxed times when we chatted and laughed together. David is working as usual these days, and Lise is transforming our house into organized living. What a whirlwind she is! All of John’s papers have been put into folders, and the office closet now houses games and jigsaw puzzles. She and David straightened up the hall linen closet, and the guest room storage space is now under scrutiny. Lise and I are dealing with paperwork for change of titles for large items, life insurance claims, retirement benefits, medical bills, and change of names on all joint accounts. We have continued our habit of eating out. Here are photos of my lunch companions across the table and David’s tuna wrap at Beach Mountain Diner.
We asked David to pose with both of us at Waynesville Pizza.
I’ve never spoken of the Maclin Pat, a new name for a goofy practice that my brother Bob and I began when we were teenagers. Maclin is our family name, hence the title. In a teasing mood, we’d cock our heads at an angle, put on a silly expression, and pat each other’s arms. David and I continued the practice when he came to live here, and Lise has joined in. Would you agree with me that the ritual needed to be documented?