Saturday's weather could only be described as sublime. I attended a get together at Lake St. John in celebration of three important birthdays: Tony Byrne, whose house hosted the event, turned 90. He was mayor of Natchez for around 30 years and has been missed ever since. Tony is ever young, still playing tennis and looking not a day over 70 at the very most. Natchez ran as a smooth machine during his tenure as mayor, even through the troubled days of the Civil Rights movement. He was also kind, offering the key to the courthouse and a cot where our local and beloved "bag lady" could find respite and rest. He loves animals, and City Hall became home to a cat -- a three-legged yellow tabby named Tripod, whose memorial stone still announces his presence some 40 years later. Tony is a raconteur of the first order and to hear him tell his stories is a delight and an education.
It was also his daughter, Christie's 64th birthday, a beautiful young lady I hadn't seen since high school. Remembering what a sweet and pretty teenager she had been was easy while listening to her talk of her children and her grands, and I hope her visit home brought pleasant Natchez memories.
In addition, it was his goddaughter René's 60th birthday. René was just a toddler when I was in high school. Her father, Clyde Adams was the coach at our little school, Trinity Episcopal Day School, where he coached the basketball team to State victory, and was loved by everyone -- students and parents and fellow teachers. Clyde was one of Tony's best friends, so I was not surprised to learn that he was Renés godfather. One of René's first memories of me was of my weeping inconsolably while we put my beloved buckskin, Pedro, to sleep after a long and gentle life, patiently carrying children on his back through the woods on the banks of the Mississippi River.
So it was no surprise to find the house lot loaded with cars and the yard swarming with guests, both young and old. I'm at the age (68) where I'm losing friends I thought I'd know forever. I believe Tony will outlive us all, his joy for life and bona fide affection for his fellow man and beast carrying him along for many years to come.
It was a warm spring day with the perfect breeze coming off the lake, and I found myself swinging under the protective branches of an ancient oak tree. "Now if this isn't nice, I don't know what is," I thought to myself and basked in the dappled shade and remembered my times at the lake as a child where I swam and waterskiid without a worry in the world. A pefect afternoon.
May 18, 2026
