My good friend Janey held my cup and navigated the straw to mouth level, a most perfect position for a seasonal sip.
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“What are you doing after we eat?” Janet asked in that curious but caring voice I have enjoyed listening to for the past 37 years.
“Going home to write a Christmas piece for Sunday’s newspaper,” I answered.
Janet gave me that hang-on-to-your-hat-we’re-going-for-a-ride look: the calm before the storm.
“Would you like some coffee with your Bailey’s?”
I nodded.
Incoming.
It was 12:35 p.m. and I hadn’t had anything to eat, and was on my third cup.
Sorry, boss … kind of.
But I was in good hands with dear old friends, and new people to meet.
An even dozen of us brought our appetites to the home of Val McPherson in Riverbend. Val was married to Gary — God bless his soul — who, in the fall of 1979, opened a door for me to cover wheelchair basketball, the tip-off to my journalism journey.
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We lost Gary in 2010. But his spirit and mischievous hijinx — I found out Saturday Gary once returned home one night from choir practice somewhat tipsy — is enthusiastically exhibited by his kids, Keiko and Jamie.
In fact, if I hadn’t seen Keiko and Jamie two weeks earlier at an Oilers game, I would have not enjoyed such a super Saturday.
My magic cup filled with my magic beverage (sorry, boss — but not really) to the dining room table for a beautiful brunch, Christmas was certainly in the air.
Janet’s dad, Norm, was there — an 83-year-old dignified Irishman, who chose Canada as his home during the IRA carnage in the 1970s. As a police officer in Ireland, Norm was told his life, bluntly, wouldn’t last very long with the IRA raising havoc.
Norm retired from the EPS in 1996 and his 36-year career of serving and protecting has rubbed off to his two grandsons, Kenya and Montana, who are in the Canadian Navy.
Janet and her husband Leon, both school teachers visiting Edmonton for the holidays from Hong Kong, have taught all over the world.
Their children were named after the region they were born in.
Other conversations rang around the brunch table of Keiko and Jamie’s friends. One is an event planner. Another owns his own window company.
Keiko runs her own painting company and Jamie helps.
We got the feeling nobody wanted to leave as the stories and laughter effortlessly rolled into the mid-afternoon.
It reminded me of Gary’s launch party for his first book, With Every Breath I Take. Gary knew everybody: the crowd count was well over 200.
I saw Gary sitting by himself at one point and went over to see if everything was OK.
His smile beamed.
“Everything could not be better,” he said. “Look at all my friends talking together, having a good time. I just wanted to take a moment and take it in.”
Anyone who knew Gary knows he brought people together so they could enjoy each other’s company … to learn from each other.
He was looking down Saturday afternoon with pride.
Confession: I have been dreading this Christmas — the first Christmas I face without my beloved wife of 28 years.
But my friends surround me with love and support.
When my mother passed away in 2008, we had her specialty, sweet dinner buns, at her memorial service — and Mom’s bun recipe was printed on the back of the bulletin.
Before I left Saturday, Val gave me six buns she made off the recipe.
And Sunday lunch? I am invited to Maxine Bradley’s for the family traditional Christmas Eve lunch. Mrs. Bradley was the person who baked dozens of buns for my mother’s service.
May you and your loved ones be as blessed as I am this holiday season.
camtait58@gmail.com
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