Turning One Hundred

Let me start by saying that I'm not turning one hundred, just in case there is any doubt. Last Saturday I attended a celebration for the hundredth year of the church I attended as a kid. It was a rather strange experience. I've maintained few relationships from elementary, high school or university. It's almost as if each chapter of my life is in a box by itself and once a box is closed it doesn't get opened again; so it was odd, and wonderful, to meet up with my first best-friend.

Many people put in hours and hours of work on scrapbooks and photo boards for the evening. There were pictures of church suppers, Sunday school groups, church camps and individuals who were part of the church's history. My dad showed up in a couple of newspaper clippings. In one photo he stands with a group of men behind the corner stone for the 'new' church (built in 1960). Dad was also in half a dozen photos in an album. These were taken in the seventies during a church service and it looks like Dad's health had taken a turn for the worse. The shirt he wears is too big around the neck and the jacket seems to have too much material in it.

I was also in at one picture. I didn't notice it until someone pointed it out to me. In it are several small girls, all of us in frilly dresses, with our mothers standing proudly behind us. I found out later that it was taken at Judy's fourth birthday party. Someone remarked that it was uncharacteristic to see both Judy and me in dresses. She didn't like them any more than I did. I wonder if there was a discussion about the dress code for little girls' birthday parties prior to the event, or if some kind of bribery took place to get us both into the dresses.

I talked to many people during the evening. Toward the end of the evening I chatted with the current minister. I knew, in addition to serving on various committees in the church, that my dad was a trustee for a long time. Until Saturday night I had no idea just how long. The minister told me that for twenty-five years after he died Dad's name remained, as the lead trustee, on documents at city hall . I'm not sure when the error was discovered but it took a number of people and much patience to set the record straight. Dad never would give up on a job before it was done to his satisfaction.

As the chairs and tables were being put away and I walked through the snow to my car, I felt my father and the child I was had gained substance and, perhaps, came a bit closer to each other. I also smiled at the realization that we never know just how we will be remembered.