Family and guests. Brian and Emily, Dave and Kate (B&E’s friends). It’s nice. They all packed light but they all brought scotch. Experienced campers. Brownie points to the good from arrival.

I have no idea how I managed to instil in guests the need to bring scotch but it has become a bit of a tradition and I am quite pleased about it. First tradition I have ever liked, actually. Well, I have come to enjoy Thanksgiving but, I am afraid, for much the same reason so we may as well bunch it all into ‘scotch days’.

I mean, really, eaten one turkey, eaten ’em all, eh?

And another tradition manifested as well. One, perhaps, more enduring over time: Brian is Em’s fiancé officially as of last night. Ring, champagne, romantic setting (presented privately at sunset beside the Inukshuk on the point) and the whole thing. He seemed to know what he was doing. (As much as any man ever knows what he is doing with such a radical act!) And Em was pleased. Smiles all around. It was nice. Very nice.

A few toasts. Some pictures. We then, of course, reminisced about our own wedding. Out came the photo album. It was a scene from Father Knows Best or Ozzie and Harriet. Even the dogs were in there wagging their tails! I guess some things never change.

But I must confess that, after a minute or two, their intimate and personal commitment seemed to signify yet another shift in the generational continuum to me. I moved my continental plate one more increment closer to the edge.

Time to close our album and get ready for another.

Time does, indeed, march on.

And I am not sad about the progression. I just felt it. But I don’t feel as if I am losing a daughter. ‘A son is a son til he takes a wife, a daughter is a daughter all her life.’ So I am really just gaining a wood splitter. I’m OK with that. All in all not a bad development!