My son, John, invited my wife and me to join him and his girlfriend, Jennifer, this afternoon for a nice dinner and a movie to celebrate my birthday. My birthday had been five days earlier (I'm a 9/11 baby), but he'd been unable to schedule the celebration earlier. I was supposed to dress up for the occasion, so I put on a nice pair of shorts Tomie had given me and a nice shirt John and Jennifer had given me for my previous birthday. I had to wear shorts because my left ankle is cast because I tore my achilles tendon a few weeks ago and It's hard to get jeans on over a cast. We were supposed to arrive at John's house in Pleasant Hill at 4:00 p.m., but as usual, Tomie fiddled while I burned and we didn't arrive until about 4:30.

As we pulled onto his street we saw that all the parking places in the parking area across from his house were taken and I remarked to Tomie that someone must be having a party.
John came out of his house and directed Tomie to park along the curb above the parking area, and as we parked I saw an unexpected person across the street--Peter Wright, son of my friend and tennis buddyStan Wright, whose memorial service John had attended with me last spring. Peter is men's tennis coach for UC Berkeley and former coach of Ireland's Davis Cup and Olympic tennis teams, and as a junior high school kid used to join his dad and I an another friend in regular Sunday doubles. As he came across the street to greet us, he was accompanied by a beautiful 5 year old girl, whom I thought must be one of the kids John occasionally sits with--children of his college roommate, but he informed me that she was the daughter of one his other friends, a former student of mine who is now a cop in Berkeley.

I still hadn't realized the enormity of what was going on until we entered John's house and saw my nephew Tom and his daughter Katy, and as I progressed up the stairs into the living room began seeing all sorts of other familiar faces: Tom's sister Stephanie and her daughter Rose, their parents--my sister Phyllis, and her husband Leon, Tom's son Willie, then coming from the kitchen, Jennifer and Andy Mesones, parents of Bella, the little girl from outside, and Bella's brother Calton--Andy was a student of mine at Berkeley High, a year behind John. Then it started really getting crazy: there were members of my Monday night group: Sally, whose illness I described to the Mudcat in detail, calling on the prayer and good thoughts circle's prayers and good thoughts, Charlie Bond--our leader and lead guitarist, accompanied by his wife Katherine and daughter Annie, Dick White--who still plays the Gold Star banjo I sold him a decade or so ago when I bought my first good openback--aha! this is why I brought the banjo, then Mike Sherman--an old friend who was John's ninth grade English teacher; Dick Riechel, my best friend from college, and his SO Lynnette, and Steve, John's friend, Laurie Wotus, wife of Giants dugout coach Ron Wotus, John's next door neighbor.

A little while later Terry Doran came in, accompanied by his wife Lenore--Terry was a coworker of mine for many years at Berkeley High--when I was teaching English and journalism and advising the school newspaper, Terry was teaching photography and advising the yearbook staff. Later on, we traded places on the publications and I started teaching photography, as well. He and I retired at the same time, and he was elected to the Berkeley school board. Later arrivals included Marshall Windmiller, professor emeritus of International Relations who was one of the teachers in my Peace Corps training group--and who John, in his job as a reporter for Channel 2 news, has interviewed several times for background on news stories, and his wife.

Meantime, I was directed to the buffet table for barbecued beef and chicken, baked beans, corn on the cob, salad, rolls, etc., and after I had eaten, my son said it was present time, and I started opening cards and gifts--lots of fun ones and a couple of amazing ones--from Peter Wright a "Golden Bear of the Year" award for men's tennis--the Stanley Wright Memorial Award, and from the city of Berkeley, a proclamation declaring Sept. 11, 2007, to be Charles Kratz Day. Really! I was astoounded. It's all because of John's connections, of course, including his friendship with Mayor Tom Bates--and, of course, I didn't know it was my day until five days after it was over.

Then someone suggested it was time for music--and Charlie got his guitar, Dick went out to his car to get Sally's autoharp--but neglected to get his banjo, I got my banjo, and we started playing--or I started playing, and they joined me. I started "This Little Light of Mine" but in a senior moment, after once through I thought I was doing "Laid Around." After a chorus, verse, and chorus, I remembered what I had started so switched to "This Little Light," did a couple of verses and three choruses and a couple of breaks. About this time another of the group, our female lead singer Nancy Crowe came in and led us in "The Last Thing on My Mind."


It goes on--and I sure drone on, don't I? I've certainly put anyone who hasn't clicked away to sleep--anyway, it was the first real birthday party I've had since I was in knickers in Mason City back in the late 30s, and I'll be raving about it for the next few decades.

Charles