When I was growing up, my birthdays were much simpler than the parties of today. They were never celebrated at a park, bowling alley, gymnastic studio, game venue such as Chuckie Cheese, or a movie theater. They were all at home and were never themed—with matching invitations, plates and decorated cakes like back in your day. A few examples from your parties were Wizard of Oz, Minnie Mouse, Care Bears, Winnie the Pooh, and Beauty and the Beast.
But back in the olden days before color TV, microwave ovens, cell phones, and home computers, we only had a plainly-iced cake with candles and occasionally, Grandma decorated our birthday cakes with M&M’s. The paper plates were white.
As the first-born in my family, I was constantly reminded of my age by my four siblings, who liked to say that I was born at the hospital in Jockey Hollow, which was the winter encampment site for Washington’s Revolutionary Army.
To this day, they like to tease me about my age. Just look at the card I received from my soon-to-be-60-year-old sister, Aunt Ar.
I am at peace with my age, particularly this year since the Beatles were nice enough to write a song for this occasion—one of my favorites I must add.
Reflecting back on my life, I must say I am happy. I have three girls, and now three boys—thanks to three lovely ladies who gave birth to those men—and two terrific grandchildren who constantly make me laugh and feel loved. Nearly forty-one years later, I am still having breakfast with the same crazy, lovable husband.
I have written two books and am working on checking my travel items off my bucket list. During the past ten months, I have knocked off Alaska and Ireland. Cuba made it in the nick of time before travel by Americans was once again forbidden. Thanks to my two-year-old hip, I hope to be able to continue traveling for many years to come. And based upon the travels of my almost 96-year-old friend Gene, I should be hitting the road for at least another thirty years!
So far, so very good!