Duncan Hines Sucks (and other truths)

PinF was born on Thanksgiving Day 1962.

Of course my birthday doesn't always fall on the holiday, still Thanksgiving always reminds PinF of his birthday because as a child this is when the birthday hoopla would take place. Growing up with four brothers we usually celebrated Thanksgiving dinner at our house, as road trips with a family would be difficult, not to mention who wants to invite 7 people? As kids I think this was just fine with all of us as we had things to do; football in the street, the parade, ride your bikes and any other activity that celebrated your freedom from school. Of course nothing beat mom's cooking anyway, to look at any of the Paynter boys today you'd never know what finicky eaters we all were as kids.

The normal attendance at my parent's home for the Thanksgivings of my youth was always my father's mother, mom-mom. An incredible woman who herself was a nurse for fifty+ years right up until her death at age 74 in 1981. I think of this often as I've watched my father respond to the nurses attending him and have wondered if he feels just a bit more nearer his mother. Though now as a parent myself, I can see more objectively both the blessings and the curses of this woman, though curse is probably too harsh a word. She was loving too a fault, which usually meant she stuck her nose where often times it didn't belong when it came to issues of ether of my parents reprimanding us kids. This of course would cause friction between my parents and so on. So the Thanksgivings of my youth are peppered with the inevitable family conflict. But that's family right? And isn't it usually the most emotion packed holidays when tensions and troubles seem to rise like a souffle? So this is what you'd have: the doting grandmother, a lifelong artist friend Mina Smith from Philadelphia, and either my mother's twin sister's or occasionally her oldest most controlling sister, the one we all have-- Aunt Mary. So put all these people in a bag- shake for 5 minutes, open and distribute around the dining room table, sprinkle 5 boys seperated by 11 years and you have the perfect recipe for the typical Thanksgiving. These are funny memories that I know all brothers remember, in different ways mind you, but for better or worse, they're OUR special bonding and shared pasts of years gone by. This is one of the special dividends you get with siblings, especially grouped close in age-- you all get a history of your entire lives, the funny the bad, the embarassments, the triumphs, and everything else in between.

My parent's were fun parents, whereas some people might have felt overwhelmed with the thought of taking 5 boys in a car downtown for the parade, they didn't. We all would go, this is without doubt an experience all children should enjoy at least once in their live's. I've already brought my own daughter to the parade in Philly twice. Nothing prepared you for a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner like the chilly air of the parade, added to this the warmth of the fireplace surrounded by family and friends and you a memorable day. My mother for all her skills in the kitchen would inevitably bake my "birthday cake" every year, I say this in quotations because just as inevitably, something would always happen to that damn cake. I know if my mom is reading this now she's cracking up and smiling ear to ear, because my mom's nothing if not able to laugh hardest at herself. A trait learned I'm sure, by doing nothing less than living life head on and taking all it has to offer. I am very thankful for her indeed. God bless her becuase every year she would "doctor" the cake before presenting it, and every year there would be the obligatory apology for this year's "problem" . I'm cracking up recalling this now.....and if I'm being honest, and I AM, I clearly remember being 7, 8, or 9 years-old, and lying like a child does when he doesn't want his parent's to know that the kid knows there's no Santa Claus. I would say things like "it's ok Mom" , or "It's great, really it doesn't taste burnt?" So concerned was I with hurting her feelings during an obviously pressured filled day, that the cake's quality wasn't what was important. So as it often does in life, the holiday meal preparation would inevitably fall apart at its weakest point--this was usually the Duncan Hines "link" of the chain. Normally the "incidents" were always the same culprits, they would usually include-"left in the oven too long", or baked without one of the few ingredients, in an absent minded moment of confusion. My mother and I have laughed long and loud over these memories, and sitting here now I chuckle as I recall the debacles of my "cakes". Though I know too, that I wouldn't have had it any other way. This takes nothing away from meal though, they were always perfectly delicious- especially that corn casserole.

My phone was ringing at 8AM today with no caller ID. As I have the last few weeks, I steel myself with every Philadelphia area code call, odd hour-of-the-day calls, and the one's with no caller ID. I was just preparing the coffee, checking the bird, and planning my day when it rang. Sophia was yet to wake and I was tuning in the parade for her. The caller identified himself as Dr. Jones, he assured me first that his call was not related to any change in my father's status. He was calling to inform me that my father was scheduled to have a cardiac procedure to clear a major artery already precariously blocked; I being the Power of Attorney he was in need of my authorization. As he droned on about the "percentages" of complications, the possible outcomes, and a host of other technical, yet necessary information regarding William Paynter patient, as opposed to Bill Paynter my father, I patiently listened. He was nothing if not the most thorough man I've spoken to, and his tone was one of genuine care and professional confidence. He asked me if I had any questions and I mustered one or two foggy queries. With that it was done. He will be taken at 9AM tomorrow for yet another procedure, all which I must keep asking myself whether I am making the right choices. As of now, I am. He's making progress and I must allow for him every chance to build on his progress. Still it's difficult.

PinF was extremely blessed the other day to receive birthday wishes from all over the globe, in the form of email's, phone calls, and cards. Still the one thing that I realized more than any other, was that this was the first year of my entire life that I have not spoken to my father on my birthday. This call this morning had the same effect on me, it made me realize that as much as my life is "happening" right now with regards to planning mine and Sophia's dinner, watching the parade, and planning a beach trip, he is "there". Here the man that has been at the "head of table" of so many of those dinners of my past is now spending his Thanksgiving where he did 43 years ago waiting for me and my mom--in the hospital. It kind of brought the whole situation to the forefront to start my day with a surgeon, an obviously dedicated man, as he was calling me from just outside my father's room from the nurse's station on Thanksgiving holiday too. In one respect you want to humanize the process and make him understand that this is the man who carved so many turkeys, held me up for the parade, and threw the long bomb to us on the field. But you know you can't. That is just emotions of the moment rising when you hear the cold, calculated, language of medical reasoning, even as I know it is not possible for this Doctor to see your emotions, love, or yearnings for the person you know, to return.

So it's on with the show, as I'm sure my father would want it no other way. I have a little girl to chew my ear all day about her Christmas list, how lucky her cousins are that they live in Philly and can go to the parade, and how she wants snow too. Of course I could have never imagined reliving the summers of my youth on a beach Thanksgiving Day, but to her this is what she knows, so the uniqueness is lost on her. Little does she know her cousins would trade places in heatbeat to be going to the beach to make a sand castle while the turkey bastes. That's the funny part of life, how as children(and some adults), we always want what we don't have, when in actuality she has an 80* day without a cloud in the sky to enjoy in her bathing suit in the sand. My father loves the beach, and I shall remember him today as I look out at this beautiful day and I'll say a little prayer instead of running all the medical odds throught my mind that his Doctor most thoroughly started my day with. Still in many ways I'm much more thankful than I would have imagined a few weeks ago, my father has a fighting chance and no one's giving up on him, for this he has himself to thank . I'll miss my brothers, mother, and various other guests today as they gather in Manayunk, though I'll be in touch by phone, and I'll kind of be there by memory too.

As for right now, PinF can smell the bacon calling him and my coffee mug is empty. Sophia lies behind in me bed watching the parade schreeching with excitement of her pop star favorites and complaining "how they're soo lucky!!" to all the spectators. As I look outside, there's a cobalt-blue sky with a brilliantly unobstructed sun, temperatures are rising and so is PinF's yearning to get to the beach and really be so thankful for so very much. That's today's story, Thursday November, 25 2005 in the life of PinF.

God Bless All.