Wild and Wacky Octogenerians

With age comes grace and maturity right? Well, maybe in some ways, but this weekend I was reminded that somethings just transcend age.

On Saturday night, Casey and I and the rest of his family attended an event at the Cowboy Hall of Fame. Casey's dad was being inducted into his high school's hall of fame along with a number of other alums of Capitol Hill High School. This was no small scale event either - there were about 400 people there - the vast majority of them over 70 years old.

As Casey and I were walking to the registration table, we encountered our first spark plug. An alum of a 1950s graduating class, this woman chuckled and trotted and hugged and waved. She was ready for the night's festivities. After she'd greeted us and told a little about herself, she headed toward the auditorium for dinner. Then, looking back at us with a smile, she exclaimed, "You guys are going to be so bored!"

I guess she didn't think two whippersnappers like us would be able to properly appreciate the evening.

At dinner, Casey and I sat with his sisters and their families. The food was good too. We had roast beef, mashed potatoes, green beans and custard.

Then the M.C. came to the stage. He was a slender man in his seventies. He wasn't the most engaging speaker but he clearly had passion for his Alma Mater.

Before it was Glen's (Casey's dad) turn to receive his award, there were 6 or 7 other honorees who received awards and gave speeches. While we were 'listening' to them, the family flipped through the event's program. I believe it was Natalie who discovered an interesting find on one of the pages. Her dad's name was listed under accomplished athletes in the 1955 Track team. We started to think about this and realized Glenn was only 11 at that time. That set us off. Casey and his sisters started doing imitations of their dad as a little kid flailing his arms and running across the field.

Then it was time to get serious. Glen had stepped on stage to give his speech. While we listened to him, the table was challenged to keep a straight face.

A long-time friend of Casey's parents and a fellow-grad of Capitol Hill was seated at the table with us. She also struggled to compose herself. Apparently someone at a neighboring table was having a bit of stomach problems. Noisy stomach problems. My nieces vocally pointed it out and inquired about who was causing the ruckus (and odor).

You know how it is when you're supposed to be well-behaved but then something strikes you as funny? And then the thing gets funnier and funnier because you're not allowed to laugh. Well, that's how this was. I looked down at the ground and let my hair drape over my face so I couldn't see my sisters-in-law laughing. I was trying to keep it together. I didn't want Glenn to look down from the stage and see me cracking up while he gave his speech.

But, then a very loud stomach disruption occurred and the table next to us (full of WWII vets and their wives) began laughing too. All this while Glenn is trying to give a speech at a formal banquet!

Then, after all the honorees had accepted their awards and given their speeches, Betty Sullivan, a graduate of the class of 1948 came up to sing. Betty was a hoot! She was tall and thin and looked much younger than her 78 years. She was a self-proclaimed procrastinator who'd received a degree in music from OU in her 60s and had sung at Carnegie Hall several times beginning in her 70s.

Betty was going to perform some songs she'd composed for the occasion. But, then the karaoke machine just wouldn't work for her. So, she stood on stage for a good 5 minutes saying "I'm going to sing a song I wrote called Friends. It's song number 12." Then she'd push a button on the stereo and nothing would happen. Then, she'd repeat, "The song is called Friends, and it's song number 12."

Her frustration grew and she began calling for Jim, her husband, to come fix the machine. "Jim, get up here. I need song 12." She'd push some more buttons. "Jim, come fix this." For some reason, Jim didn't come and neither did anyone else. At one point, my 7 and 8 year old nieces were even going to go on stage to try and help her out, but just as they headed to the stage, Jim finally appeared. After a few more minutes of finagling with the stereo, they got it work, and Betty sang Friends.

As we left for the evening, I reflected on how the woman we'd met earlier in the night had thought we'd be bored. While the evening was long, it wasn't boring. There was good food, family, laughter and potty humor. What more can you really want from a Saturday night on the town?