Eighty One-der-ful

It happens every year. Everyone celebrates my birthday with parties and parades. Every place I’ve lived the entire city celebrated: in Chicago, Philadelphia, and Dallas. I’m not Irish, but I had a bit of Irish luck, being born on St. Patrick’s Day.

I remember many birthdays. Many celebrations. Once I was on a tour to Turkey with my friend Nancy. The Turks do not celebrate St. Patrick’s Day. A knock on the door of our hotel room, and a young woman came in carrying a cake. The last person from whom I expected to receive a birthday gift was Conrad Hilton! Not a St. Patrick’s Day celebration but a birthday cake, especially for me, in Ishmir, Turkey.

Today I am 81. People say I don’t look a day over 65. My emotional response to this event is surprise. How can I be alive and enjoying every day at this age?

When I was a little girl and we visited my father’s parents, my grandmother was a little old lady, thin gray hair pulled back in a bun at the back of her neck, wearing a long black dress and little black patent-leather shoes. I was still a small child when she died before her 76th birthday. I could not imagine being that old. I was sure I would be dead before the year 2000.

Last week I rushed to a doctor’s appointment, driving on Dallas’s 635 expressway, at various times a raceway or, with frequent accidents, a long parking lot. That afternoon I concentrated on following the car ahead while looking up at the mirror where a big truck closed in behind. A quick glance down at the speedometer showed my speed approaching 80 mph.

The proper name of the 635 is the “L.B.J. freeway.” Another expressway, parallel about a mile north, is the “President George Bush” toll road. I’m grateful to keep up with cars and trucks speeding like stampeding cattle without having to pay. The rich buy “toll tags” to enjoy the less-crowded Bush highway. Are they all Republicans?

Today I am grateful to still be alive, to still be interested in Democrats and Republicans, and to still be driving at 75 mph when the legal speed is 60. Hay! I’m just keeping up with traffic.

Pretty good for 81. Eighty Wonderful.