Photo by Jasmine Bartel on Unsplash
Welcome to my new blog!
February. What an emotional month! You know. You understand. You really do. I mean, who doesn’t get really worked up and teary-eyed just knowing that Abraham Lincoln was born on February 12th? Who can get all the way to February 22 without reminiscing fondly about George Washington – with all his whatnot – cherry trees, dollars over the waves, footprints in the snow, etc.? Or what about the famous tall person of stove-pipe hat fame? And overcomer. A real man of the earth. A Midwesterner who knew a man’s word was his bond. And, of course, there’s the one that is totally over the top commercialized: Valentine’s Day. Yup. Lots of chocolate. Lots of flowers. Lots of angst. (I can’t remember her favorite chocolate. Is it dark or milk? I wonder if I really need to pay this much for perfume. Isn’t this $5.99 one just as good?) (I know he is not interested in all that mushy stuff. I wonder if he’d like a Gitzit. Is that a golf club? A fishing pole? A bass boat? Is it in our budget?)
And don’t forget that this very month, this very year is an extra special one! Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this year we celebrate the miraculous, the one-and-only, showing up like magic, leap year! Wow, we just wake up and have yet one more day of February to grit our teeth and crawl through. I mean, with which to be blessed. Well, face it, you think it too! Who needs more February? April – yes! February? Meh. I think someone made a mistake on that call. Just my humble opinion. There’s probably some scientific hoo-haw about how they decided when it is – a deep, dark secret known only to a handful of scientists. Or historians. But here we are celebrating it anyway. February 29th. Yesiree bob!
I guess I am thinking of February so much because this is also a big one in my own little private world. If you promise not to tell anyone, I will share with you that this is my 70th February 1st. Yes, I know I look older than 70. I know that when I was 20 the thought of being 70 was blood-chilling. The stuff of horror stories. So far away that it was easy to put out of our minds and go on with our young, powerful, ego-centric universes. Oh, the folly of youth!
We have good friends with whom we play cards often. She turned 69 a couple of weeks ahead of my husband. As we discussed celebrating his upcoming birthday, she nodded wisely and said, “Ah, yes. I remember when I was your age – and how stupid I was.” We all shared a good laugh, but that’s just about how it goes. A couple of weeks and suddenly - ZAM! – you’re 70! Watch out, Millenials, Xers, Yers, whatevers, it’s going to sneak up on you too. (I know you’re not even reading this blog. You’re doing something I don’t even know exists.) Sorrowfully, when the time comes, I know I won’t be around to say I told you so, so here it is in black and white, on the never-dying interweb thingy. Ha! Take that!
And happy birthday to me. I guess. Smile.