Thoughts of the statues on Easter Island
And so ends a few days introducing all my grandchildren to camping with grandpa.
My friend John recently lost his wife and decided that Hospice was so nice to he and his boys that he wanted to repay their kindness at what he does best, food. John is head sous chef at a prestigious cooking school, and claims to be able to grill better than anyone who serves food in the Kansas City area.I would not have passed this culinary extravaganza, and since John addresses me as chef sometimes, I had to be his helper. We prepared seven cases of pork baby back ribs and seven whole beef briskets. These were served with coleslaw, potato salad, and baked beans. The dry rub was mixed and the battle began. We had to take breaks and watch the Kansas City Royals play the Chicago White Sox baseball. I cooked one shift for twelve hours centered on ribs. At noon two days in a row, the food was served to many, and John had his friends offer a donation to Hospice if they wanted. All the leftovers went over to the Hospice and were left for families and workers to enjoy as the Memorial Day holiday gently subsided.
Me hanging out waiting for guests with Chester.
In the morning following a two day feast of barbecue delights, I woke before everyone as usual. I sat drinking a cup of coffee and this tiny dove sits on the deck railing next to me. I went and grabbed a camera,as she somewhat seemed to wait. I shot twice and then sat there enjoying my morning with this tiny charmer. My father professed he always would return as a Bluejay, and that thought brought to mind that my friend could have been the lady that had once lived here. She had landscaped the yard, and spent most of her time on the deck I was sitting on. It was what seemed to keep her going in her final days. I thought of her beauty and that thought was carried along with the happiness of the weekend on a gentle prairie breeze.
Later in the day I sat with the husband and the dove returned on the ground near us. I told him the story of having a guest for coffee and getting a few shots. I kept my previous thoughts to myself, knowing his love for his wife continued to bloom over the weekend. A second sibling slipped out of a nearby bush and both young Turtle Doves squeaked for food as a parent approached. The mother let them slip deep into her throat and she regurgitated food up for them. I laughed at my morning thoughts and also my friend, who never liked the thought of regurgitated anything. I offered to share my sandwich I had chewed so well, and we laughed at a sketch on an old Saturday Night Live where the family all ate like birds.