“Excuse me, I would like to order that cake for next Friday, the one with the blue and white balloons,” he tapped his finger at the glass of the refrigerator where the cake was sitting at.
“Just a minute, sir. The one with the balloons?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, what would you like to write on the cake?”
“Oh. Please write ‘Dear Sheila,’ and it is spelled S-H-E-I-L-A, ‘Happy 48th Anniversary, love, Art’ as in A-R-T.”
“Congratulations. Where do you want it delivered?”
“Oh. No. Thank you. My wife will find out. How about if my grandchildren pick it up for me? I thought I’d use their help to surprise my wife. This is what they look like...” He pulled out a photo of his grandkids, “This is Kevin, he’s eight, and this is Rachel, she’s fourteen. The fourteen year old will be able to take care of the cake. Do you need to make a copy of this?” The old, sweet dude had Operation Cake-Purchasing all planned out prior to his visit to the store.
“Awe, they’re cute. But we don’t need their picture, they can pick up the cake just by showing us the receipt.”
“Excellent! Thank you very much.” He smiled and seemed genuinely happy.
A small kind of bliss generated by an act of affection, as exampled by Arthur planning a surprise for his wife with the help of his grandchildren, somehow, in an extraordinary way, comes to weigh more than a university degree, having a hot boyfriend or a talent to show off and a noteworthy career than I’m desperate to erect. Who knows? Fifty years from now, they would probably be of little significance to me. However, if life turns out for the worst, then I would always remain envious of Art and Sheila (as well as a bunch of other people). Congratulations to the couple on their 48th anniversary, marriages that last as long as theirs are getting rare.
The Jelly Fish Aquarium at the Toronto Zoo, Summer 2009
