The Sidebar: 93 Candles, One Wish, 1500 Ladybugs

Plus a Fresh Corn Sauté with Chile and Lime

Dad, 93, with Ava and Anderson - the oldest and youngest members of the Evans family. Ava and Anderson are my first cousin’s grandchildren and would have been my Dad’s youngest brother’s great-grandchildren. Dad’s five brothers are deceased.

1. Happy Birthday, Dad

Today my Dad turned 93. Ninety-three! The only thing that can top that is this: I know for a fact that two of Dad’s childhood buddies, a brother and a sister, are reading this newsletter, and the brother is older than Dad. (Hi Paul! Hi Nancy!). They all spent their teenage years, along with my Dad’s brothers, horsing around Lewes Beach (that’s Loo-is, not Looze) in Delaware, building campfires, fishing, sailing in homemade boats, and working summer jobs for practically nothing, during the war and after. This was the 1940s.

Of the six Evans brothers – Jack, Bill, Rodney, Bob, Val and Doug – born between 1919 and 1936, Dad (Bob) is the last standing and has lived the longest. I know Dad is also reading this newsletter so I am not going to embarrass him too much, but I have just one thing to say to you, Dad: That’s not good enough for me! We have high expectations in this family, and 93 is not going to cut it. Eleanor and I, and Kari and Kris and Kathy, and John and Lynne, and Gregory and Marie and Leah and Ava and Anderson and the rest of the family are counting on you to keep this Evans ship sailing in the right direction. When I was little and you were teaching me to sail, you said, “Just pick a point and head for it.” Pick a point that’s fairly far offshore, will you Dad?