Christmas dinner with Young Bob Flynn

We feasted like kings last night -- crown roast, apple-pecan stuffing, a bazillion side dishes, almond cake, almond meringues (sense a theme here?) and chocolate hazelnut gelato for dessert. And Young Bob Flynn was our Christmas queen.

Given her memory issues, the holiday season has YBF a little scribbled this year. Heck, it has that effect on all of us. The comings and goings, strange hours, gift wrapping, stocking stuffing and Santa planning do take a toll.

But back to Young Bob Flynn. Throughout the evening, there numerous introductions, re-introductions ("Now, who are you?") and re-re-introductions ("So lovely to meet you.") until YBF decreed collectively that we were all "gems" and settled it once and for all. And in her mind's eye, I think Young Bob Flynn thought we were in Tacoma, Butte, Guam and Southern California -- frequently simultaneously. But not all in 2010.

I believe I could get use to time travel.

There WAS one testy moment. That was when we suggested to YBF her cheese and cracker might go better in the mouth rather than pocket and she, well, begged to differ.

But there were merry moments too, when, in startling flights of lucidity, Young Bob Flynn fired off one-liners with the aplomb of a seasoned night club comedian.

As we gathered at the table and shared grace, Young Bob Lynn gazed out at us -- her family -- slowly and thoughtfully made the following pronouncement:

"We will walk together and talk together in perfect harmony. So be it. So be it. Amen. Amen. Enough said. Bobbie."

And we were off to the races.

"We will walk together and talk together in perfect harmony. So be it. So be it. Amen. Amen. Enough said. Bobbie" became the night's refrain. And just to keep us on our toes, Young Bob Flynn would change it up occasionally.

"Bobbie, would you like more mashed potatoes?"

"Oh, no thank you, dear. I'm brimmed. In perfect harmony. We will walk together and talk together. So be it. So be it. Amen. Amen. Enough said. Bobbie."

"Mom, what were Christmases like growing up in Montana?"

"Well, dear, they were dark and cold. We would walk together and talk together. In perfect harmony. Amen. Amen. So be it. So be it. Enough said. Bobbie."

"How did you get through all those Christmases with six little kids?"

"In perfect harmony. We would talk together and walk together. So be it. So be it. Amen. Amen. Enough said. Bobbie."

And so it went. Until.

From the living room, the lush opening strings of Bing Crosby's classic "White Christmas" drifted lazily into the dining room. Young Bob Flynn turned, cocked her head, listening carefully. On cue, she joined Der Bingle in singing:

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas,

just like the ones I used to know.

Where the tree tops glisten and children listen

to hear sleigh bells in the snow.

YBF's still-lovely alto was strong and sure. She seemed to savor each word -- and the memories they evoked. And so, one by one, we joined Young Bob Flynn and Bing, softly warbling:

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas

With every Christmas card I write.

May your days be merry and bright

And may all your Christmases be white.

In perfect harmony.