The Rock Wall

He’s here.

Adrian called us from the hospital at 8 a.m. Saturday and said the staff told her she would have a baby before she went home. Change of plans – Adrian and Cain planned to take their nephew, Gus, to the zoo that day.

Robert Van Gilfoil was born at 6:16 p.m. on Saturday, Oct. 28, a month earlier than Dr. Allyson Boudreaux told Adrian and Cain to expect him just a week ago. Van weighed in at 5 lbs. 15 oz. spread over his 19 inches of length. Because of his early arrival, he spent his first night in the Nic Unit at Baton Rouge Women’s Hospital. Every one but me seems to be familiar with the name for Neo-natal Intensive Care Unit. At first, it was too stressful for him to eat and try to breathe so the staff administered liquids to him. He started eating the next day.

They removed all of Van’s gadgets on Monday and told Adrian she could stay another day or go home. She chose home, but came right back to feed her baby, who is our first grandchild. Van may go home at the end of the week.

On Tuesday, Adrian was feeling fine, just very tired. She said Van likes for his daddy, who is Robert Cain Gilfoil, to hold him. Cain has a grandfather who is named Robert. Cain’s middle name comes from the doctor who was supposed to deliver him but had a health emergency.

Van was a next door neighbor, a very good friend of Cain, who passed away in 2013.

After church Sunday morning, Nora Smith asked, “What are you doing here?” She said she would have been on the way down there to see that baby. Of course, her grandson, Austin, was standing right behind her when she asked that. We will have to make more of a trip to see ours. I’m thinking Thanksgiving but I haven’t checked with the bosses.

As I sit down for my chat with you, it’s the 42nd wedding anniversary for Kimball and me. This morning she told me that the dash on her car said “Low tire” when she drove in Monday night so I told her to drive my pickup. I took it by Allison’s and Karl said they had aired up all four tires for 26 people whose cars told them, “Low tire.”

Then her car told me, “Low on fuel,” so I gassed it up for her.

I would have done better than that 41 or 42 years ago.

After I emailed my best man and his wife the photos Adrian had sent of Van, Cain and her, I sent another and asked Allen and Pat Crew what they were doing 42 years ago. Kimball doesn’t remember what she, Pat and the other girls were doing, but Allen, Doug Hassler and I were catching the heck out of big bass on Cross Lake, the city water supply for Shreveport. Even though we were murdering the bass (catch and release), we had to get off the lake at noon at Kimball’s insistence. Our wedding would start at 7:30 p.m. and she wanted me there.

About 7:30 p.m., when I peeked out some little door up at the front of Frost Chapel and saw the church full of people, I said, “I’m not going out there.” Allen, my best man, earned his keep. He said, “Yes, you are. I came 500 miles for this (from Birmingham).” And I did. Then after the reception at Kimball’s parents’ house, Allen took us to the airport and we kept our reservation at the Airport Marina in Dallas.

Some thoughtful friend of Kimball’s saved our lives. We were starved about 1 a.m. and nothing was open. She had packed some of the chocolate groom’s cake in a shoebox.

Fun memories. KL