Together at the Table

My mother’s brother Paul died two nights ago at the glorious age of 97. His wife of 68 years, my Aunt Dot, died last night. She was 94. 

Just like my parents, Paul and Dot had seven children. In my most vivid memory of their home in New Jersey, I am sitting with my sister and my cousin on the olive green carpeted stairs adjacent to the dining room table, where my parents sat with a crowd of aunts and uncles. I was six years old, and I wondered what on earth they were talking about for hour after hour after hour. The kids did the dishes, the whiskey and wine glasses transitioned to cups and saucers for coffee, and the conversation went on. And on. And on. Lots of laughter–sometimes riotous–and a familiarity and closeness that I know was love.

I am delighted that so many people who come to OneSixtyFive linger over pancakes and coffee or martinis and charcuterie, laughing and talking with people they love. There’s an ease here that invites long visits.

So grab a breakfast table or a rocker on the porch or a spot on the sofa in Pub165 and linger a while with the people you love. I may just do the same, and when I do, I’ll raise a glass to Paul, Dot, and the beauty of time at the table with friends and family.

Dot and Paul; Yours Truly with my sister and my cousin in New Jersey circa 1975.