The Ultimate Birthday Gift

____________________________________________________________________________________

In Belle Vernon, PA...Sam Oliverio was born on March 11, 1916

My poor editor's last laugh
is Paul Edward Oliverio's
eternal gratitude.

Last Friday, Karl Hobbes
sent me a plain text letter
that might as well
have been a
jet plane.

I might as well have been
a twin tower.

The only thing preventing
total destruction was a visit
to St. Bartholemew's
on Saturday.




I had the whole damn church to myself and that was exactly what I needed.

I prayed for one and only one thing: the reversal of Mrs. CarPeo's "leave of absence."

In her absence, I wanted no other living, breathing human in the Catholic church.
Just me, my defanged bravado, and the Big CATS: the Creators of All Things.

My silent prayers–exactly one decade of the Holy Rosary–were answered
and the evidence is in your hands.

Excuse me, while I kiss the sky!
**************************

The companion page for THE ULTIMATE BIRTHDAY CARD 
was posted on February 15 and it was designed by Mrs. CarPeo

The homage
to my mother's
93rd Birthday
has a border
buried behind
a treasured image of
Grace's handwriting.

None of the other 1395
Good/GodFather pages
has such a distinction
and that is not about
to change.





Also, I was so overwhelmed by Carol's design, I refused to post another page
on February 15, 2014

At the absolute bottom of every GodFather page is a tribute to my mother's
92nd Birthday.

At the absolute bottom of every GoodFather page is the image Carol requested–
for what I have titled THE ULTIMATE BIRTHDAY CARD.

"Paul, please send me the image of you with your two sisters."


The 1945 photo of my Army uniformed father and beatific mother
defines the posthumous birthday card.

The last time I was physically in such proximity with
Sam + Grace + Linda + Judith, it was 1971.

However, none of this explains how my St. Bartholemew prayers
were answered. But the yellow rectangle does.

Mrs. CarPeo needed a leave of absence for a surgical procedure:
She had a courage implant and a de-humility-fier.

Without surgery, the distinguished book designer would never have included
her beautiful blue eye in my Father's birthday card nor would she have
super-imposed a rose on my sisters' laps.

If the rest of my life can be seen through Mrs. CarPeo's baby blue eyes,
then I will be a very happy benevolent Son of Sam.
__________________________________________________
__________________________________________________
__________________________________________________

At some point in that life,
I will be able to see
the ghost of Harry Abrams,
storming into
the executive offices
of Abrams Books:

"IF ONE OF YOU 
  DOESN'T
  IMMEDIATELY 
  REHIRE  
  C. A. ROBSON...
  
  YOU'RE ALL FIRED!" 
 

____________________________________________________________________________________