For some reason, i don’t know why, i have this sad/mad feeling coming over me. Breakfast is over. I sit at our breakfast table looking out on the Mexican sage where the hummingbirds roam. I am staring at this damnable screen with a keyboard, not my newspaper, something that has been like an anchor in my life until a couple of months ago.

Perhaps not having the morning and afternoon papers are behind the mad. I don’t know.

For another reason i cannot fathom, i put Enya’s “Amarantine” album on my Bluetooth speaker to listen to for breakfast. Her music produces a quiet, peaceful sadness in me.

A great deal of the morning has been spent hitting my social media, Facebook. It was there i saw our youngest daughter. It was a photo Lisa Brannen had sent several years ago. Sarah was in Bonita Vista High School’s women’s show choir, Sound. When i showed it to Maureen, she took a deep breath.

That’s Sarah in the center. Lord, could she project. i was glad we had those times and wish i could recapture them. But i’m too old to be sad. i would be sad all the time with the memories i have.

Then i read a post i shared about eight years ago. My late close friend and shipmate, Al Pavich, had passed it along. The post was from another of Al’s friend and ended with a quote from an old man who had said goodbye to his daughter for the final time and parted with “I love you and wish you enough.”

I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright no matter how gray the day may appear.

I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun even more.

I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive and everlasting.

I wish you enough pain so that even the smallest of joys in life may appear bigger.

I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting.

I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess.

I wish you enough hellos to get you through the final good-bye.

He then began to cry and walked away.

It read so like Al. i miss him. He was a wonder. i felt myself getting mad not having him here until i caught myself again. As with sadness, i’m too old to be mad. i would be mad all the time with the memories i have.

A hummingbird flitted by the sage distracting me from my thoughts. It’s going to be a beautiful Southwest corner January day with a high of 72. We have friends coming for lunch. Time to get to work.

i first saw her in autumn during her freshman year at Vanderbilt. She was walking back to the women’s quadrangle with several other freshman women. She wore a knee-length skirt, knee high socks and a blouse on a beautiful Nashville sunny day.

i was standing with Charlie Hon, a freshman from Chattanooga (who became a legend in our fraternity) on the porch of the Kappa Sigma fraternity house across the street from the quadrangle. i asked Charlie if he knew her. He replied she was Susan Butterfield, also from Chattanooga. i was infatuated. i thought she was attractive and had beautiful legs.

Then, we had a party. Charlie had a date with his future wife, Ann Hon. Ann was Susan’s roommate in the quad. Butter, by which she was known, was double dating with Jeff Redmile.

i had a date with Jack Daniels. A group of us without dates had been watching the Porter Waggoner show on WSM while waiting for the Flatt and Scruggs show, which followed. It had become a weekly mainstay for about four or five of my brothers and me. Unfortunately, this night, i had stuck a fifth of Mr. Daniels’ fine fare into the refrigerator and began sipping with no governor. My date was having a not-good effect on me about the time the party started.

i took a header on the couch and went to sleep (my version), or passed out (everyone else’s version). When she saw me in my sad condition, she asked Jeff to take her back to the dorm and return to take care of me. He did.

From then on, we have had a relationship. Most of the time, including now, it has been as friends. There were some times when it was much more than that. There was one time when i lost track of her. The Navy has a habit of doing that to folks. But by chance, i found her again. She finally married Mike Brooks, also from Lookout Mountain in Chattanooga. They live in Atlanta and are a great fit.

Susan (Butter) Butterfield Brooks is one of my dearest friends. She and Maureen are also close friends, or as close as you can be with one in Atlanta and one in the Southwest corner. i shall save future birthdays to relate other special moments with Susan here.

She remains beautiful in so many ways.

Happy Birthday, Butter.