After plan after plan after plan fell through for my 60th birthday, something finally worked out: we went less than 25 miles from our house, stayed in a guest house for two nights, and spent the day going wine tasting in Yamhill County. We’ve never been able to do that, because whenever we’re in that area, we’re on our motorcycles.
It wasn’t easy: many wineries and recommended restaurants are closed for January. The price of accommodations and a driver almost scared me away completely. And the weather threatened to put a damper on it all. But it did work out, I had a nice time and I wrote all about it here. There are some photos there too. It was a lovely day.
But the best present I got was the day before, when I got the link to a video from my sister of someone singing me her own Happy Birthday song. I’m not sharing the video here because it’s too precious and because I don’t want anyone to make fun of the performer. It would be easy to do. The performer has a thick, glorious Southern country accent, she’s wearing a boa and she rambles and “plays fast, happy music” at her piano. She talks and acts so, so much like my paternal grandmother. I’ve watched her on social media for months and been so charmed by her. I found out about her from my sister, who is probably her biggest fan. Sure, I’ve giggled at her videos. But this video, made for ME? I wept. I ugly cried. I cried so hard I missed most of the performance the first time I watched. And the second time. It’s hard to explain that line between laughing at Southern Countryness and feeling like my guts are being ripped out by the incredible sincerity and love and authenticity and comfort that it can have. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to explain it. But if anyone really made fun of her, I’d be heartbroken. So, no, sorry, not sharing it with the entire world. It’s too precious.
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