That's how old my father-in-law, Kenneth Cannon, would be today if he were still alive. It's his birthday, and my Ken and his sister joined their mother in Provo this evening for a little cake and ice cream and a lot of remembering.
Last week in church Ken talked about his father, how he always made sure the animals were fed before the family opened their presents. Young Ken resented this. He hated the idea of milking the cow before the celebrations began. Stupid cows. And yet the experience always turned out to be peaceful--the scent of hay reminding him of that first Christmas birth.
Thinking tonight of loved ones who are no longer here.