|The Barn Dog Bar & Grill in Hendon, Sask.|
On the way there, the rain pounded down so hard several times that I had to pull over because I couldn't see. Then suddenly we were through it.
After Emil demolished a big plate of food and a grape pop, we headed east to visit Ivan (Scott's dad) at the lodge in Kelvington.
Emil made sure to tell everyone everywhere that it was his birthday.
"I'm twenty-SIX today."
Scott's cousin Orlynn, who was clearing tables in the dining room below, sang Happy Birthday to him.
|Emil, age 26|
The bar had Nascar racing (yawn)(grind teeth)(why can't I escape goddamn sports of one sort or another on a frickin' loud TV in every eating establishment I go to?) and the nursing home had Walter Ostanek and the Polka Kings, followed by Tribal Trails. Don't quote me on those names. But I have come to love the old-time music that, in my teens and twenties, I looked so far down my nose at. Apparently we really do come full circle.