Being an orphan has its advantages...

Larry, who lives in the big yellow farmhouse three doors south of us, is also a BMW motorcycle rider. He's my age and just retired as athletic director at the local high school.
I ran into him weekend before last and he proposed we ride together to the BMW Motorcycle Owners of America national rally this Thursday in Lima, Ohio.
While I do most of my riding solo, I occasionally enjoy some company, so I agreed, suggesting we talk closer to the day of departure to work out times and routes.
He left a voicemail this afternoon saying he can't go to the rally because of problems with his elderly parents who live about a half-hour north of here.
Been there, done that.
My dad died in '97 and mom died in 2000, but I spent a lot of my Sundays with them from around 1995 on. One of the things about being an only child is that you have no one to help you carry the burden of aging parents. The upside is that you have no one second-guessing the decisions you make about, and for, your parents.
I spent a lot of time being angry about my parents' decline. Time and advancing age were turning them into people I didn't recognize and found hard to like.
Dad spent his last couple of years in a smalltown nursing home. Even though it was fairly well-equipped and well-staffed, it was a depressing place. I remember one afternoon when my frail father looked at me with watery eyes and croaked, "Get me out of here!" It broke my heart.

He was a fragile diabetic and was confined to a wheelchair at this point and my mother, even though she had been a Registered Nurse all of her adult life, was beyond being able to care for him at home.
They were getting ready to take him to a nearby hospital to replace a feeding tube when he died in a few days before Thanksgiving, 1997. I think he decided he'd had enough medical abuse and simply checked out.
Likewise, my mother had been in an extended care facility near my home for about six months, pleading daily to go home, when she died in her sleep.
It's hell watching your parents fall apart. For most of us, it's completely uncharted territory and I count myself very lucky that I had Maria in my life to help me through it.
I hope Larry's wife Bev is the supportive type. He's going to need it.
In the meantime, I'm looking forward to four days of immersion in the BMW motorcycle culture with about 5,000 of my closest friends. A lot of my local club member friends rent motel rooms for these affairs, but I prefer to camp on the rally grounds and get the full experience.
This will be the 15th 'MOA national I've attended, starting with LaGuna Seca, California, in 1986.
Here's the list:
2004 - Spokane, WA
2003 - Charleston, WV
2002 - Trenton, Ont.
2001 - Redmond, OR
2000 - Midland, MI
1998 - Missoula, MT
1996 - Morganton, NC
1995 - Durango, CO
1993 - Oshkosh, WI
1992 - DuQuoin, IL
1991 - Flagstaff, AZ
1990 - Rapid City, SD
1988 - Madison, IN
1986 - Laguna Seca, CA
Lima is hardly a glamour destination and it's only about a four-hour ride from here, but it should be well-attended because the center of gravity of BMW MOA membership is east of the Mississippi and north of the Mason-Dixon Line.
I'll hang out with friends, cruise the vendors in search of some new gadget to refine my touring kit, stare at and listen to hundreds of BMWs, knock down plenty of beer at the Biergarden and complain that the Saturday night awards ceremony is too long and heavy with self-absorbed rally organizers. Then I'll strike the tent, pack my stuff and ride home Sunday.
I might even wash my bike for the occasion. It still has some California bugs on it from last summer.