ABSTRACT
I was ecstatic. George was to turn eighty in October and I had great plans for his birthday – a surprise party in September, that luckily happened to fall on the only weekend that month that we didn’t have a hurricane, a second party at my friend Ann’s home in Ann Arbor, a third at Melodee’s in Ohio, and then a trip to the wine country in California. I expected that George would tire more easily, was determined to set a more leisurely pace, and, by and large, I succeeded. It was indeed a never to be forgotten birthday and a welcome respite to all the pain we had been dealing with.
