Happy Birthday, Compton E. Heggy!

My dad is now 90 years old, and still going strong. A fine excuse for a party, wouldn't you think?

Because his birthday falls so close to Thanksgiving, the celebration was scheduled for the Saturday following the holiday. It worked out perfectly -- a bunch of folks who were in town for turkey day were also able to attend the party, and a great crowd showed up.

I know, I know...since I took the trip, you're probably expecting a dazzling description of the natural beauty of western Kansas -- but I'll leave that to the poets and lyricists. I will say that the Flint Hills wind farm looks really cool at night, and kept Tanner and I occupied with speculation about how the airline warning light blink sequence is controlled. Is each tower on its own timer, or is there some sort of grand circuit that makes them blink like some sort of multi-mile discotheque?

Yeah, the boy and I actually do talk about stuff like that. Hey, when you're on a 9-hour drive through the flatest part of the country, your mind tends to grapple with questions about whether the lights on power towers are interpreted as inviting signals for extraterrestrial visitors, and stuff like that. We kept our eyes scanning the heavens for anything that would give us a Richard Dreyfuss sunburn, but the night remained as dull as the prairie itself. Oh well. Wichita would provide excitement for us, for sure, right?

OK. I guess there are multiple definitions of every word; excitement is in the eye of the beholder. The birthday party didn't start until evening, so we had the entire morning to do some um, "exciting" chores.

One of the reasons I remain so fabulously good looking, and am able to maintain my relentless charm and charisma is that I take great care to avoid manual labor whenever possible. But for some reason, every time I visit my dad I end up enlisted in some variety of backbreaking work. The pharaoh-esque project for this trip was moving a couple of tons of mulch from a pile in the front yard all the way around to the back yard. Fortunately, everybody pitched in and we got the job done with only minor aches and pains distributed among the group. I can't believe I forgot to take a picture of the barrel brigade in action...it was probably more dramatic than any of the party photos.

But the party was fine, indeed. Plenty of food, a bunch of cheerful guests, and some heartfelt toasts that reflected the respect and admiration that everyone has for my father. He even gave a brief speech. And then we had cake.



After the speeches, it was time for photos. Since they wanted me to be in several of the photos, my camera ended up being passed around, and some of the shots were from the "cut off the heads" school of composition. But that's OK -- we all had a good time.
I may have other observations to add later, but for now, let's just say that the trip, the party, the friends and relatives...well, they were all just swell. Such swellness may make for dull bloggery, but I appreciate your patronage, nonetheless. Maybe the next adventure will provide more fireworks and scandal. Until then, please give my dad a high five if you see him, and have a great day!