Yes, We Can

It was a privilege to be invited to our neighbor Ruth's birthday party. She's just turned 96. The party was attended by a mixture of young and old, mostly old. The old spanned several generations of oldness, or "the new middle-age" or "young in spirit," depending on how you want to look at it.

Joyce, Ruth's daughter, was our hostess. She had us play a breaking-the-ice game that involved the wearing of leis. The game was called "Yes, we can." If you caught someone using the word "no" in conversation (or "know"), he had to give over his lei to you. The person with the most leis wins. That was a gentleman from San Leandro who ended up with an array of red, green, blue and yellow leis piled around his neck. He was delighted with his gift, a wooden nutcracker that looked like a piece of modern sculpture. Leave it to Joyce to think up these crafty games and cunning gadgets. She is the mistress of fun.

Ruth sat in her chair in the doorway, bedecked with her own special lei of many colors to commemorate her 96 years -- like Joseph bedecked in his coat of many colors. Next to her sat an old lady behind her walker, kneading her hands in discomfort because they were cold. "Knitting helps," she said. "But I forgot to bring my yarn and needles." Ruth disappeared, returning with a bag of yarn and a pair of unopened needles. "Is it OK to use these brand new needles?" asked the lady in delight. Ruth insisted yes, of course, and the lady spent the rest of the time happily engaged in knitting.

Meanwhile, we talked of cell phones, texting, and schoolchildren. Many of our gathering had been schoolteachers at one time or still were. Joyce tutors two third grade children at a nearby school. "The little boy thinks only of basketball," she says. "There's no future in his thoughts - or really no present -- except for basketball. I'm trying to expand his mind. How many years does the average player have? I ask him. What do they do after their basketball career is finished? And so on."

Our other next door neighbors appeared late at the party with their two little boys, ages 8 and 11, who also think of nothing but basketball, except for skateboarding, their other passion. They shoot hoops at 8 in the morning (their mom told them they couldn't play before then) and at 10 at night, in the dark. In between times, they're on their skateboards, up and down the space in front of their garage.

"You're always out here skateboarding," I said to them one morning on my way to the car. "When you're not playing basketball, that is." They nodded  'of course.'

"Maybe you try both at once," suggested Bob. "Then you could get more time in."

"Oh, we tried that once," said Hank, "But it didn't work."