A toast to three friends at a party celebrating their fortieth birthdays.
Forty came and forty went
A blink, and half our lives were spent
We never thought of what it meant
When mortgage took the place of rent
We’d no more borrow, we would own
Trade house of straw for house of stone
We’d make a stand and cease to roam
We’d claim a house and make it home
Foundations lent a sense of worth
But shadows dimmed our middled mirth
We had been tending here since birth
A slab of stone, a plot of earth
But I love you, and you, and you
So raise a glass, and then raise two
At forty years, we learn what’s true
We always were just passing through
Cheers!
Whenever the waning sun doth gloam,
The sober glimpse that the grave’s their home.
So screw that cork, and suck that juice:
In pace, requiescamus!
Belloc II: The Drinkening
A sobering corrective: http://www.crisismagazine.com/2009/the-boozy-apologists
I absolutely object to his inclusion of Lewis. There’s a reason Lewis has endured in a way that Chesterton and Belloc have not. To take an easy example: he mentions psychology, and Chesterton’s likely response to it. But what is Screwtape if not an exquisite psychological exercise? We learn in Screwtape much less about devils and much more about man and his capacity for evil in everyday life.
Agreed.
Is it possible to hold two wine glasses in the hand like that?
Now we see where the inspiration for the daughter’s claw monster came from.
Alphonse is kid’s stuff.
Or is it grape juice?
It ain’t grape juice.
It was once.
Splendid versifying, old man. It warms my middlaged cockles.
Thank you, sir.
I feel like you live in a cooler version of reality than I do.
Nah, I just have big hands.
I have diminutive Mongoloid proportions, and tried this trick with standard-sized wine glasses in my own little hands. Not to take away from Mr Lickona’s extraordinary feats, but this particular one is totally doable.
That’s unpleasant expression.
Sorry, ma’am. I’ll try to express myself more pleasantly in future.
You know, when you run out of hands, you can also steady a wine glass between your toes.
Do I gather from this poem that a “happy birthday” is in order to you? If so, I’ll pour one in your honor. And if not, I’ll pour one in your honor.
No, it was for three friends who all turned 40 this year. But pouring one is definitely appropriate. As for the toes claim, pics or it didn’t happen.
I’d like to see that photo on the jacket cover of your next book.
The last time I remember meeting up with friends was for my fortieth birthday. I think there were about thirteen of us in all. I introduced an older colleague from work and my sister told me later she hadn’t want to sit next to him. Now he’s the only friend of those I have left and I notice, sometimes, that people don’t want to sit next to me.
No, of course, another one’s still a friend.
Then raise three!
Damn, that is one fine poem.