We went out with friends to a new restaurant. We had to be seated on the second floor. There was a ladies room on the second floor.

What a relief it was to us both.

Not the most appropriate opening to a story about going out to dinner with friends but parkinson makes the very small things in life into major obstacles. Those need not be obstacles but they can win out in the “Is it hard? v. Is it easy?” tug-of-war that enters the discussion whenever any social activity happens.

I have written about women’s restrooms and some of those experiences. This is not a blog post about that. This is a story about how truly graceful are friends that Cheryl and I have in our life and have had for half a century. It starts with an email from Jan in early December proposing that we gather for dinner somewhere for our annual holiday gathering. Cheryl used to refer to this group as the defunct bridge group because although we used to play bridge at our gatherings, over time we simply gathered for a meal and socialization.

Jan suggested a few dates in January and suggested collecting at her house or a restaurant somewhere. I immediately voted for a restaurant somewhere for two reasons; it puts the eventual clean-up in someone else’s bailiwick, it gets Cheryl into a social situation were she does not believe she is a burden to anyone. (Grace on Cheryl’s part, she does not want to be a burden.) And besides, Gary and Jan go to restaurants that we might never pick just because of unfamiliarity. She picked the Purple Poulet in Newport Kentucky.

In a later email after Jan had confirmed the reservation, she wrote that we would be seated upstairs and asked if that would be a problem to anyone (grace – Jan did not single us out). I did not respond to her email because upstairs by itself is unimportant. It does tell me what equipment I might need. It also tells me that I need to call the restaurant to understand restroom facilities which I did not do. (no grace for me) Somehow with our narrow life activities, I never got around to calling the Purple Poulet and asking about ladies restrooms. I am not shy about that idea merely incompetent in this instance.

Yesterday was January 20th, the day that had been previously selected for our dinner gathering. Sherry called to ask if we would like to come to her house late in the afternoon for a drink and we would leave from her house to go to the restaurant which was a thirty minute drive through the center of town. (Grace on Sherry’s part for offering extra time to socialize and catch up.) Sherry has a sister who also has parkinson as a part of her life. Her sister is living in an institutionalized setting but Sherry spends a good amount of her time there. Cheryl is comfortable in conversation with Sherry and Sherry understands Cheryl’s difficulty with mobility and mental agility.

After I accepted Sherry’s invitation, we discussed restaurant steps, parking arrangements and restrooms facilities and, oh bye the way, if steps and restrooms were a problem, why did I not speak up? (She left out – you fool!) Sherry is too polite for that last part. She did start dialing the phone. Pretty soon it was all settled. We would meet at her house and ride to the restaurant in Gary’s GMC Acadia. (Grace to Gary and Sherry.) Sherry suggested that if the Ladies was downstairs which was my fear, we would just deal with it at arrival. (More grace to Sherry – her words – I’ll just tell Cheryl I have to go and we’ll go together when we get there.)

I managed to get Cheryl to Sherry’s house before everyone so that I could put our car deep into her driveway and out of the way. I was successful and the evening was all set. Denny and Katy arrived a few minutes after us. Gary and Jan arrived shortly thereafter. Sherry had drinks and snacks. For an hour or so we were surrounded by just friends not Parkinson. What a relief it was to us both.

It is not often that we acknowledge the kindness and graciousness in our life. There is no excuse for that. Many explanations but no excuse. This group of friends surrounded us with love and kindness and helpfulness and grace. For a few hours we, Cheryl and I, could just be. (Thank you, all.)

About the Purple Poulet; I linked their website to the first mention of them above. For me at least and I think Cheryl would agree it was a great dining experience. The restroom on the second floor was marked Ladies on the door near our table but was in fact a well appointed handicapped restroom. I have been in many. I know.

The steps turned twice and had handrails on both sides. If there is no elevator the next best thing is handrails on both side of the steps and a gentle slope to the stairway. Up is never a problem for Cheryl. Down, however, is a perceptual problem as well as a physical one. A short gentle run of steps is much less intimidating than a long or steep straight run. (grace to the stairway designer.) I have not gone down a set of steps with Cheryl forward for many years. (Sherry managed the walker while I was helping Cheryl manage the steps down – grace to Sherry.)

We both had their chicken. On their website they claim “The Best Fried Chicken by Southern Living” – It was the best fried chicken I have had in quite awhile.

This morning Cheryl is still sleeping. I am not but I should have skipped that second glass of Robt. Mondavi that I allowed myself because I was not driving to and from the restaurant. (no grace to me – grace to Gary for driving)

Carpe – the best fried chicken – Diem.

And surrounded by grace is another reason to stay connected.

Grace to you, Denny, Katy, Jan, Sherry and Gary for letting us simply be us.