Grand Cru

Yesterday, while I pulled weeds in my northside garden, I had this random thought: "If I were to croak right now, it would be okay. I've had a good life." As soon as I thought it, I wondered at its origins.

I can't entirely explain where it came from. I'm definitely not planning to croak any time soon. And usually when I think about croaking, I feel a bit panicky. But not yesterday. Yesterday I felt sort of fine about it all. I've traveled a lot, I have loved and been loved, I've done physical and intellectual things I'm proud of, and I have a job that I feel good about. I have a head full of happy memories. Already, at 39, I've had a very good life. And I feel lucky and grateful.

I suppose that's where the thought came from: a place of gratitude.

Sam cut firewood all day while Boone supervised. Quinn and I went for a hike with Moses. We visited with the neighbors on our way back up the hill. I found and ate ripe blackberries. Quinn napped and I worked in the garden—two things that never seem to happen often enough. At the end of the day, we all drove over to our friend Corey's to go for a swim. I forgot Quinn's bathing suit, with its built-in diaper, and I forgot dry diapers too. But, we made the best of it: she went skinny dipping for the first time*, and then Sam fashioned a "diaper" out of a blanket to hold her over while we all had tea.

We returned home in time to get Quinn some dinner (Annie's mac & cheese, scrambled eggs with cheddar, pureed mango) and get her to bed. She went down without a peep. It was a satisfying day.


Sam cooked us some pasta and I closed windows against the cooling air. Autumn already feels close by. As we got ready to eat, we wondered what to drink with dinner. We had a bottle of white wine in the fridge, but it was a red wine kind of evening. All we had in the rack were three bottles of Bordeaux I have been saving for years.

The 2000 vintage of Bordeaux was, according to many critics, one of the best Bordeaux offerings ever. Wine guru, Robert Parker, in The Wine Advocate, called it "a monumental vintage," and said it was "undoubtedly the greatest year Bordeaux has ever experienced." The best ever...My father and I used to share an amateur interest in wine and, over a few Christmases, he bought me three bottles of this promising vintage. I have been carrying the bottles around for years, never convinced that a special occasion was special enough to merit opening one, and never sure when the official "right time" was.

Last night suddenly seemed like a good night. I told Sam about my "it's been a good life" realization and I used that to justify opening the bottle. I also told myself the wines had probably been ruined by improper storing over the years, so why wait? And, I remembered my pledge to buy an expensive wine to celebrate my mom's recent birthday, which I had yet to do. These were good steps toward uncorking the bottle, but once I peeled the foil off the neck, I started to get Catholic about it (I have somehow inherited my family's sense of guilt, despite not actually being Catholic myself). I started to feel like I was making a mistake…what if it was too soon? Am I going to regret this? I ruminated silently, trying not to ruin it for Sam too.

But suddenly, it came to me: this week marks the 10^th anniversary of the year Sam and I first met. It was a fortuitous meeting and it's been an incredible ten years…with most of that incredible actually being the good kind. So that was the occasion I needed to make myself feel good about the decision. Problem solved.

I don't usually make decisions in this way: commit first, justify later. But maybe I should more often…the wine was exceptional: complex and yet still balanced. We tried to pick out individual flavor components. We came up with black currant and bacon, with bacon being the catch-all for indefinable smoky goodness. The fruit was held in check by tannins, a dryness like all of your teeth had been dried off with a towel after each sip...a strangely pleasing experience.

Before bed, I got online to see when the experts recommend opening the 2000 Bordeaux. To my joyful surprise, our timing was just fine. Most sources say any time from ten years on is when things are at their best. I couldn't agree more... 


Happy ten years Handsome Guy in the back row with the sexy voice. Thank you for not having a girlfriend when I found a way to ask if you did. Thank you for being just a bit older than me, since I had sworn off dating younger men. Thank you for using the word "predilection" in a sentence when you asked me out to dinner that first time. Thank you for the best first date ever: rock climbing, swimming hole, art gallery, dinner at The Starry Night Cafe...and the best kiss of my life. Thank you for being the guy in our Wilderness First Responder course to lead the night rescue; I'll never forget looking up at you, standing on that rock, calming everyone by giving clear guidance and genuine encouragement. Your ability to do these things holds us together even still...Thank you for all of these first memories and for your countless other contributions, since then, to my very good life.






*Wendy & Richard, don't worry, we had a long talk with Quinn about what not to do in the pool while skinny dipping! Thank you for sharing it with us this summer.