If I could put that date on the calendar, I surely would.

Those days it seems. They fill our years in unforeseen ways. Why, just the other day, an unexpected “this or that” happened. I believe it was when I dropped an entire tray of eggs on the floor. I looked down at the dog and said, “Well, you just never know, do you?”

One thing we can count on for those days of ours, is that the “National Day” people and their calendars will give us some options. Oh, I know I’ve written about them before, and quite frankly, some of them are just plain silly. But there they are, celebrated “Nationally” for all of us to admire, participate, and cheer on with three big hoorays. Or not.

We are midway through October (can you believe we are midway through October?) and already there have been some doozies of those days. Why, we’ve had,
National: Orange Wine Day. Fried Scallops Day. Name Your Car Day. Noodle Day. Apple Betty Day. Moldy Cheese Day. And of course, Fluffernutter Day.

I am NOT making these up. https://nationaldaycalendar.com/october/

Yet, today. This day. There was one I wish I really could celebrate. In fact, I long for it. You see, they’ve named it.

Take Your Parents To Lunch Day

I can assure you, it would fill my heart with joy, beyond reason, if I could take my Mom and Dad to lunch today.

I wouldn’t know where to begin. Hugs, I’m sure, of monumental proportions. I’d probably squeeze them so hard, they’d breathe out little “umphhhs.” But we’d sit, and eat Frisch’s Big Boys, and Fish Sandwiches with extra tartar sauce, lots of Cole Slaw and French Fries with ketchup. But I’m not sure we would be able to eat. I would have a million questions, and they, as follows, would have a million answers. There are things I’ve longed to tell them, things I can’t remember, things I never knew. “What was your favorite color?” “Remember that one story? That time you were seven, and….” “Tell me about the day I was born.” “What is it like where you are now?” “Do you know how much I miss you?” And a million more.

I would look into their sparkling, kind eyes for a long time, and trace their brilliant smiles with every bit of my memory, to keep them with me, from now until forever. I’d hold their hands and try to remember exactly how it felt, so at any time to come, I could find this place again and again.

I am not sure how long we would be given for our lunch, as I know St. Peter is a stickler for punctuality, tapping his little pad with his pen, standing there at those Pearly Gates.

But. There it would be. That moment, once again, to say goodbye. I’m not sure I could go through with it another time. It breaks my heart, right now, just to imagine this.

We’d hug, and give kisses, and they would turn and start walking away, into some kind of murky wall of mist and fog. Slowly they would disappear, and be gone, far beyond reach, again.

I’d stand there next to that old humongous, fiberglass, grinning Big Boy dude, in that stupor of his smile and the unrelenting silence. That lunch, with my parents.

And I’d call after them, one more time.
“Thank you. For everything, Mom and Dad. I love you.”


I would maintain that thanks are the highest form of thought, and that gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder.
— GK Chesteron


Things turn out best for people who make the best of the way things turn out.
— John Wooden


We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit.
— Albert Schweitzer