That Oscar WidowerSunday, February 24, 2013
But I found that, last week at a school reunion in Austin, Texas I had nothing in common with them except having been formed by the same source.
Happily, in a most sad way, I was proven wrong. I sidled up to a former upper classman, a Mexican/American who even in youth had looked like a lugubrious bloodhound. After a few exchanges in which I revealed that we in Vancouver, in my crowd, had a deep admiration for President Obama he stared at me shocked. His comment immediately warned me that I would never ever be able to sit with him at a table and have a conversation. He said, “How can you like a man with his views on gay marriage, abortion and birth control?” Feeling very nasty I retorted, “At least I will be able to sleep late not having to wake up to the clamour of 50 very Catholic grandchildren.” I was sorry the moment I uttered it.
Hours later I had a chat with the lugubrious bloodhound’s wife. Quickly, I don’t know how, our conversation led to this, she said, “We have just celebrated our 50th wedding anniversary and I am afraid of being left alone.”
Today I was an Oscar widower. Rosemary left the house at five to pick up our daughter Hilary. They were to go to Hilary’s mother in law’s where they would join our two granddaughters to watch the Oscars.
While Rosemary was away:
1. I watched The Whistle Blower with Michael Caine. I purchased the DVD for $3.00 some months ago at the Superstore.
2. I ate a Mars Bar while watching it. I also had a bowl of my homemade, Mexican style black beans.
3. I drank a large mug of Yorkshire Gold tea.
4. I read some from my terrific pick from the Vancouver Public Library, the Gothic novel, The Little Stranger by Sarah Waters while drinking a large mug of Earl Gray tea.
5. I ate some chopped steak from yesterday’s Saturday evening meal with the family with two slices of Olivieri sour-dough toast, nicely buttered.
6. I went back to The Little Stranger while drinking a large mug of Barooti Assam tea.
At 10:30 Rosemary arrived and I concurred with the lugubrious bloodhound’s wife that am I very afraid of being left alone.
Being an Oscar widower is not a lot of fun.