I'm a poet / essayist / memoirist/
journalist (in the sense of keeping a journal, not of working for a newspaper) and it occurred to me that a blog fits in with all that. If Montaigne, father of the essay, were alive today, he'd keep a blog. This is my self-portrait as frustrated artist who can't believe she's not famous yet. (And because it's part of my artistic endeavor, the whole damn thing is copyrighted. All rights reserved.)
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September 6, 2007

Happy Birthday, Mom

Today is my mother’s birthday. She was born 70 years ago today in Tucson, Arizona.

I’m kind of freaked out by this--not that it’s her birthday; I’m used to that happening every year--but that it’s her 70th birthday, because 70 is kind of old, particularly if you have health problems, and my mom does. Back when she first started manifesting some of these problems, I would say, “But she’s young! She’s only 59!” I really can’t say that any more, and not just because she’s not 59. Fifty-nine is young for certain problems, but 70 really is not. My mom’s health problems are not going to kill her tomorrow, but they will kill her eventually, and it’s not unheard of for people to die in their 70s of things like liver disease or a stroke.

I don’t know that I want to stick around for as long as some of my relatives have done, who, especially on my dad’s side, are a very long-lived group of people; I have plenty of ancestors who hung on into their mid to late 90s. I watched some of them get frail and feeble and cranky and forgetful. It didn’t look like fun, and I’d rather skip some of that. But I don’t want to bow out particularly early, either. Nor do I want my mom to go any time soon. But the fact of the matter is, she might.

At least she isn’t forgetful yet, though recently I’ve been stricken at how frail and feeble she can be, considering how vibrant and strong she always seemed before. As for cranky, well, she had a formidable cranky streak even when she was young. I won’t say it’s part of what we loved about her, but it was part of her, and we dealt with it.

I seriously doubt my mom reads my blog--at least, I hope she doesn't; I’ve done my best to protect her from it. My blog, like my tattoo, is primarily a source of pleasure and pride for me, but I know from experience that making my mom confront certain things about me just leads to unhappiness for the both of us.

So even though I already sent her a gift and called her this morning to wish her “Happy Birthday,” and even though she’ll probably never read this, I want to say “Yo! Mom! Congratulations, and I hope you celebrate a few more milestone birthdays!”

Posted by holly at September 6, 2007 3:02 PM

2 Comments

By spike on September 7, 2007 3:42 AM

And many happy returns.

Both of my parents are now in their 70s. There are some health issues but if family history is an indicator, they will expect to be around for another 10-20 years. I saw them recently and there is something strange about seeing them aging and becoming, well, not yet frail but not the people ingrained in my memory.

It's not just weird because it makes me think of their mortality. I remember being in my early 20s and coming across a Peter Hammill song called "Pushing Thirty" and thinking how strange it must feel to be on the cusp of that milestone birthday. Now I'm pushing 50...

Still, I hope your mom's health issues can be managed well enough for her to be enjoying life for many years to come and that you can continue to enjoy her company.

By Dale on September 8, 2007 7:14 PM

Happy Birthday! My mom's 76th or is it 77th? is coming up in a few weeks. I hope she's reading your blog and not mine!

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