On a Sunday night in Chicago, 80 years ago, I interrupted a poker game as I kicked started my impending birth. My father happened to have a winning hand. Not now, he probably said to my mother who was not amused. Or so the story goes. They managed to get to the John B. Murphy Hospital where I was born. It was the depression....1931. My father had lost his job. They never got around to paying the bill, and before they managed to scrape up the money, the hospital burned down. An auspicious beginning.
Thus began the roller coaster ride of my life up to this month where I am able to wrap my head around the awesome fact that I am 80. Yikes! How did I get this far? One breath at a time, so to speak
So far, I am having a good time becoming 80, thanks to my family who have made it fun. I got treated to dinner at the Ranch House in Ojai, a surprise from son David and Barbara, joined there by Suzanne, Ryan and Andy. In the garden setting with twinkling lights around tall bamboo stalks, it was another world . Serene, warm and comfortable with winding paths over a small wooden bridge over a pond of gold fish. Herbal gardens, abound. Truly a magical place.
Another celebration a few days later, when daughter Judith and Joe arrived from Portola Valley to spend overnight with us in order to coordinate with best pal, Donna, a special event during the coffee hour of our church with cake, platters of fruit, cheese and crackers, lunch meat and other goodies. The cake was a work of art. Donna borrowed a photo of me taken in 1950 when I was a bridesmaid at a friend's wedding back in Chicago. Albertsons baked the birthday cake with my picture in the center, edible later because it was made with rice paper - thepicture that is. Good thing I got a picture of the picture since in the rush to clean up, we all forgot to take the leftover cake. Trying to trace what happened to it was like detective Columbo trying to detect the perpetrator who got away with the goods . Finally, several phone calls and emails later, the plot unthickened and the unwitting perpetrator was abjectly remorseful. I promised to keep his secret. but I can't help wondering who ending up cannibalizing me. It was such a good picture. In fact, one nameless church member said to me, 'gosh, you were good looking then.' Yes,I hit him.
On Tuesday, October 11th, the actual day of infamy, David and Barbara scooped me up for breakfast at Cafe Neuvo where Suzanne joined us, fittingly, since it was her birthday as well. How cool is that to have a granddaughter decide to be born on your birthday? Another granddaughter missed it by a couple of weeks, Elle being born on Halloween. Not to mention son David, born on October 6th. Libras do shine in these parts.
Okay, no more celebrations, although Donna took me out to lunch and other friends are lining up. Being eighty is turning out to be pretty neat. An easy feat to pull off, too. Just one breath at a time,
Another time, I will wax philosophical on life, but not until I get past a small study group ruminating over Job, Proberbs and Ecclesiastes. The study revolves about wisdom, but so far I decided that Job was a whiner, Proverbs preachy and as for Eccclesiastes, Solomon seems to talk a lot about chasing the wind. Obviously, they didn't have access to Prozac back then.
So says Sassy
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