Joe's Phone Call

I guess as you get older, you understand better and better that old "time is fleeting" line.  I got a call from Joe L. this morning. 
Joe and his wife, Flo (really!) throw a Christmas party early every December.  I always think of it as the event that kicks off the season.  They've been doing this for maybe 50 years, but my husband and I just started going about a decade ago, when we moved back to south Jersey.  I've never missed one since.
The L's have interesting backgrounds: Joe is one of thirteen children and spent years in the seminary.  Flo's parents never married, as she doesn't mind telling people.  They invite the same couples--six of them--and singles--now three of us--to the party every year.  They serve drinks and appetizers, then a nice dinner in their beautiful home, after which we exchange five dollar gifts amid great hilarity.  Joe always wears the same vintage (circa 1960) outfit: red and green plaid pants, a white shirt, and a red sweater.  They fit; he hasn't gained an ounce since he was a boy.  
Over the years, the group has dwindled.  My husband died, and so did Rita's.  Kathleen has Alzheimer's now and her husband, Danny, was recently diagnosed with cancer.  Barbara and Frank J. have heart disease and diabetes (I can never remember who has what).  Jim suffers from a variety of ailments; his wife is much younger, so doesn't, but she and I are about the only ones still healthy, I guess. 
I don't have a lot in common with this group; they are the age or older, than my husband would have been, seven years older than me.  Plus, they tend toward political conservatism--but once a year, we get along fine.
Joe is in his middle eighties, has had heart disease for some time, and now must get a knee replacement. Flo's a bit younger, but not by much.  She was at therapy as we spoke to try to improve her chronic osteoporosis.  The reason for Joe's call was, of course, to tell me that this year, they aren't up to having the party.  
I said, "Oh, don't be silly, Joe.  Just get up off your sick bed, tell Flo the same, and let's party the night away."  I told him it was wrong and unfair to disappoint their friends, some of whom they went to grammar school with, and who would usher in the Christmas season if they didn't?  And what about the gift exchange, Joe?  What am I going to do without another Santa Claus dish or rainbow scarf?  And who's going to serve me the fancy wines you always have, pomegranate and licorice and all kinds of other revolting stuff?  Darn it all.
Here's another oldie:  "Say it ain't so, Joe."