My Mom was born on September 25 1917….so that makes her…let me see…ninety-five today. She told me the other day that she never wants to hear anyone say that she’s had a good long life because it hasn’t been NEARLY long enough yet. She and my Dad moved in with us over twenty years ago…with their own two bedroom apartment with their own kitchen and living room. My Dad passed away almost twelve years ago.
My Mom is in good health..in fact her doctor told her it would probably take a stick of dynamite to kill her. (not really…I heard that line in an old movie.) My Mom seems to be doing everything she’s always done…shopping, getting her hair done, going out for dinner, reading, and following the election coverage like a future candidate.
My Mom has become friends with almost all of my friends over the years…they often call her or come and visit her whether I’m around or not. Once when we were on the beach she told me that she wanted to get her legs tan in the back so she wouldn’t have to wear stockings. When I suggested that she was an elderly woman and shouldn’t have to worry about things like that, she promptly suggested that I go to hell.
I rely on my Mom to know the latest news…whether or not ” Saturday Night Live” was worth watching or not, who said what on MSNBC or FOX, and when Tony Bennett might be performing. When she finally agreed to having a few people over for her birthday, my brother and I got busy inviting some of the people who really love her….it’s a pretty big list…far from including everyone, and most of her friends will arrive looking beautiful….but as my friend George says…they eat like field hands.
It’s a beautiful day to turn a vibrant ninety five..and I have a whole heck of a lot to do. I’m a very very lucky guy.