At 75, love can take on many forms

On Love and Life After 60

By Thomas P. Blake  November 14, 2014

At 75, love can take on many forms

As we age, love can be experienced in more ways than in just having a partner or seeking a partner. I was reminded of that last Tuesday night.

I never receive snail mail on my birthday. Even back when November 11 was called Armistice Day, the mail didn’t come. Now it’s called Veterans Day and the post office still closes on that day. November 11 has always been a low-key day for me, perhaps because I’m a vet and grateful I never was in an actual battle in my three and a half years of Naval duty. I’m not into fanfare, gifts, or parties on my birthday.

November 11, however, is special to me mainly because it was my mom’s birthday as well.

Tuesday morning, as I headed off to work at my deli, Greta said, “Remember, we are going out for a nice birthday dinner so try to get some rest.” I noted that she didn’t say where we were going, but she does that every year; we always go to a nice restaurant.

I arrived at Tutor and Spunky's, my Dana Point, California deli, hoping that my employees would just finesse the day and not do the gifts, cards, and other thoughtful things they do about 20 times a year, when there is an employee’s birthday. They greeted with hugs and “Happy Birthday” and that was about it. Whew, I was relieved.

Business was light that day. Around 2 p.m., Rosalinda, an employee of 26 years, said, “It’s slow today. Why not take the afternoon off and enjoy your birthday?”

I said, “It’s slow because it’s Veterans Day, why don’t you close early?”

Rosa said, “We will.” And I went home.

When Greta came home at 5:30 p.m. from her afternoon of volunteering at the Ocean Institute, she said, “Put on some nice clothes, remember, we’re going to dinner.” Still no indication from her of where. I was going to suggest pizza at home but didn’t want to be a Grinch.

Guys can get ready in a minute or two to go out. It seemed to me that she was taking her time. And then she said she needed to check her emails. I thought that perhaps our dinner reservation wasn’t until 6:15 or 6:30 and that she was merely stalling a bit. My sister Pam telephoned from San Diego to wish me a Happy Birthday.

Greta drove. We headed south on Pacific Coast Highway. That’s how I usually get to work. Then she turned on the street before the deli that leads down to Dana Point Harbor. I thought we might be going to the Harbor Grill or Harpoon Henry’s, or another of the fine restaurants down there. But, Greta made a quick left turn onto the street behind the deli. I thought, “Oh no, something is up.” But as we passed the deli’s rear deck, I noticed it was dark inside the restaurant so my suspicions of a party at the deli passed.

Then, Greta turned into the deli parking lot. The deli was dark, but I could see some balloons in the window. On the front door, there was a hand-written sign, “Closed. Private party.” We walked into the darkened dining room and then the lights came on and 35 employees, friends and family jumped up and shouted, “Happy Birthday.”

The first couple standing there was my sister Pam and her husband Bob, obviously not in San Diego.

The employees were dressed to the nines, having discarded their aprons for dress-up clothes. There were at least 35 hugs, probably more. Love filled the dining room.

Greta’s nephew, Jake Woodruff, is a musician. About six months ago, Greta and I saw him perform at the House of Blues in Hollywood. After seeing him there, I sent him a list of five country songs that I love and thought he might want to add to his repertoire. Jake and his mom Gina were at the party.

Jake announced to the crowd that he had prepared some songs for me. He nailed it when he opened with, “If Tomorrow Never Comes,” a Garth Brooks classic. And then, a Kris Kristofferson hit, “Loving Her was Easier Than Anything I’ll Ever Do Again.”

Jake knew I had been a good friend of Johnny Cash. One night 40 years ago, at the Sahara Tahoe Resort, Johnny had asked me back stage before the show what my favorite song of his was. I said, “Sunday Morning Coming Down.” Johnny came on stage that night and said to a packed show room crowd, “This song is for my friend Tom Blake,” and sang it.

Jake had mastered that song and performed it wlell. Then, he sang another Garth Brooks classic, “The Dance.” Those songs were from the list I had given him. His learning those songs, perfecting them and then singing them was an incredible gift to me.

There were people in the room between the ages of 19 to 75. When Jake sang Neil Diamond’s Sweet Caroline, everybody—all ages--knew the words and joined in with the “So good, so good,” and the other words the audiences often sing along with Neil.

When the party was winding down, Jake and three of my young, talented, women employees were singing together and I could visualize a new singing group being born. They were really good.

I had no clue about the birthday party. Not one employee slipped by saying something that would have alerted me. It was a total surprise planned by Greta with the help of Rosalinda and the rest of the deli staff.

To receive that much love from 35 people who are very special to me was an incredible way to spend number 75. I am truly blessed. That is what love is. 

The Last Cowboy Song: the end of the meet and greets

On Life and Love After 50 Newsletter

by Thomas P. Blake      October 10, 2014

The end of the Meet and Greets

For two and a half years, Tutor and Spunky’s, my Dana Point, California, deli has sponsored a Meet and Greet on the last Thursday night of each month for singles age 50-plus and beyond, in some cases far beyond. People in their 90s have attended and one nice gentleman, Dave, at age 92, met his significant other there.

Attendance has varied to a high of 120 to a low of about 20, which was the dismal number two weeks ago at the September Meet and Greet. I think only four men attended. The average attendance was usually 45-50.

As far as I can determine, about 15 couples have formed as a result of meeting there. It’s hard to get an exact count because what happens is once a couple gets together, they don’t return. One guy I saw in the Post Office who had attended a few times said he didn’t attend anymore because his new main squeeze didn’t want him to be socializing with other women.  

At every Meet and Greet, the women always outnumbered the men by at least two-to-one, but at times by four or five-to-one. There was one exception. Four months ago, the men outnumbered the women by more than two-to-one. I knew something strange was brewing that night when the first nine people to arrive were men.

I mentioned that phenomenon in my local newspaper article. At the next gathering, new women poured through the door while the men recoiled so we ended up having a lopsided women-to-men ratio. That may have been the beginning of the end.

It is a fact of life that women always outnumber men at singles functions for people ages 50, 60, 70 and 80. Most women accept that fact but there are others who don’t understand. At each event, we usually have a break in the action when new people can come to the microphone and introduce themselves. I recall when a woman took the microphone and instead of saying something like, “Hi, I’m Susie, I live in Dana Point and have been a widow for five years,” she said, “Where are all of the decent men?”

I quickly took the microphone from her and suggested she needed to have a more positive attitude. She stomped out and later emailed me that she had never been so humiliated in her life. She never came back.

This week, I received an email from Jean, who attended the September Meet and Greet. Jean wrote, “I wanted to comment on something said to a group of women at a table with one of the men. Dick said that there were at least 10 men he knew of who were staying home because the women clustered together, dressed for one another and came to hear each other, while the men came to meet ladies. I told Dick that I attend to hear male conversation but have never met anyone I have been smitten with. I simply think the gals are dressed up anyway and make the best of an evening visiting with one another sitting in groups. I personally attend alone but have been joined by a female in the past.”

I emailed back to her that the guy Dick she commented about usually sat with three or four of his buddies and barely ever acknowledged a woman. So there you have it.

One new woman who attended September’s event came in and wanted me to turn the TV on to the MLB (Major League Baseball) Network so she could watch Derek Jeter’s last game in Yankee Stadium. I apologized for not subscribing to the MLB. She disappeared in an instant, perhaps making her way across the parking lot to the sports bar where the 20 to 30 year old crowd hangs out.

Our October Meet and Greet will be the last one, at least until next spring. In ending two and a half years of Meet and Greets, I can’t get a song out of my mind that The Highwaymen sang (Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, Kris Kristoffersen, and Waylon Jennings), titled, “This is the Last Cowboy Song.”

This is the last cowboy song:
The end of a hundred year waltz.
The voices sound sad as they're singin' along.
Another piece of America's lost.