Four score and zero years ago today (just about this moment) near the sleepy village of Cartersville, Virginia, on the River James, the stork delivered a darling baby girl to the Charles Robertson home where dwelt the child's parents, Doris and Ed Robertson. Betty Jane was to have been her name, but Doris's sister-in-law was with child that spring too, so Doris relinquished the name, and I was christened Mary Ann. For two and a half years I was the apple of my Daddy's eye; then HE (brother Ed, Jr.) came! Life was not the same. Who knows what I could have become had I not suffered such an ego-bruising trauma as sharing the stage with HIM? Why, I might now be running for president.
Fast forward to April 2, 2016. My brother, that scalawag, has gathered his entire family, save the dog, in the hills of North Carolina and proceeded along the interstate, convoy style, headed toward Richmond, where they will meet my children, husband, more relatives and friends (and me, of course) in Powhatan, Virginia, at the County Seat Restaurant for a sumptuous buffet and chocolate birthday cake. All of this is a complete surprise to me—more so, because several family members are known to “always spill the beans.”
AND THE GIFTS!! I am deluged with extravagant birthday gifts. The next day I felt compelled to write a letter of thanks:
April 3, 2016
Dear Ones,
I awoke this morning and reflected on last night - was it all a dream that family and friends had come to celebrate my 80th birthday? Or was it some figment of my imagination that I walked in to see all those smiling faces waiting to surprise me?
As I started my day, I jumped into the shower, using my imaginary Bath & Brew to fix coffee to pour into my lovely new coffee mug (with the missing handle). I lathered some “Over the Hill” soap onto my washcloth, applied some “Gray B Gone” to my lustrous hair, hopped (or crept, as the case may be) out of the shower and spread some “W-D Oldie” on my aching joints to enable me to face the day.
I set my lovely coffee mug on a pad that describes my sentiments exactly: “Not a Morning Person”. Then I take my morning meds: “Tyrd-N-Old”, mega strength, for all my aches, breaks, creaks, squeaks, moans, groans, and pains; Memory Mints for Senior Moments (I'll share those with my husband); an apple a day (it LOOKS and feels real, but IS IT??? (Do I have an evil fairy godmother somewhere?)
Now I take my toothbrush and brush my remaining teeth, look into my Senior Moments Magnifying Glass, kid myself and say, “Not bad for 79 years, 363 days,” and start dressing. I hoist sagging parts into my beautiful new flesh-colored “Super Power Lift Bra,” and finish my attire, attaching the “Over the Hill” button, Christmas pin, angel pin saying “Celebrate 2000” - what happened then, I can't remember at the moment. Since my ears are not pierced, I can't wear the Christmas ornament earrings.
Now I'm ready to face the world - but first, I'll spend some quiet moments: I have used my “Catnip Catnap” bookmark to mark a certain page in my new “Unicorns are Jerks” coloring book. I pull out one of my 24 Brilliant Bee fat crayons and apply color to the page “Unicorns fart in elevators. On purpose.” My goodness, what fun!!!
Lastly, I gather my pet rock Theophilus (I named him that because nephew Brian never accepted my $100 offer to make that ancestor's name part of his son Aydin's name); and the two of us leave the house, stepping into my 2001 Honda Accord with the dent in the bumper, and roar out of Harmad Drive to race down Midlothian Turnpike to face the other nuts on the highway.
Alas, if I make a mistake today, I have not found my birthday eraser to eradicate it. I know my sweet Brother always gave me one for Christmas vs. anything more expensive, but has he reached an all-time low by becoming an INDIAN-GIVER? (p.c. Be damned!!)
In grateful appreciation for your being-here-for me at this milestone in my life.
Mary Ann
(Wife, mother, mother-in-law, sister, sister-in-law, aunt, aunt-in-law, great aunt, cousin, cousin-in-law, friend)
Fast forward to April 2, 2016. My brother, that scalawag, has gathered his entire family, save the dog, in the hills of North Carolina and proceeded along the interstate, convoy style, headed toward Richmond, where they will meet my children, husband, more relatives and friends (and me, of course) in Powhatan, Virginia, at the County Seat Restaurant for a sumptuous buffet and chocolate birthday cake. All of this is a complete surprise to me—more so, because several family members are known to “always spill the beans.”
AND THE GIFTS!! I am deluged with extravagant birthday gifts. The next day I felt compelled to write a letter of thanks:
April 3, 2016
Dear Ones,
I awoke this morning and reflected on last night - was it all a dream that family and friends had come to celebrate my 80th birthday? Or was it some figment of my imagination that I walked in to see all those smiling faces waiting to surprise me?
As I started my day, I jumped into the shower, using my imaginary Bath & Brew to fix coffee to pour into my lovely new coffee mug (with the missing handle). I lathered some “Over the Hill” soap onto my washcloth, applied some “Gray B Gone” to my lustrous hair, hopped (or crept, as the case may be) out of the shower and spread some “W-D Oldie” on my aching joints to enable me to face the day.
I set my lovely coffee mug on a pad that describes my sentiments exactly: “Not a Morning Person”. Then I take my morning meds: “Tyrd-N-Old”, mega strength, for all my aches, breaks, creaks, squeaks, moans, groans, and pains; Memory Mints for Senior Moments (I'll share those with my husband); an apple a day (it LOOKS and feels real, but IS IT??? (Do I have an evil fairy godmother somewhere?)
Now I take my toothbrush and brush my remaining teeth, look into my Senior Moments Magnifying Glass, kid myself and say, “Not bad for 79 years, 363 days,” and start dressing. I hoist sagging parts into my beautiful new flesh-colored “Super Power Lift Bra,” and finish my attire, attaching the “Over the Hill” button, Christmas pin, angel pin saying “Celebrate 2000” - what happened then, I can't remember at the moment. Since my ears are not pierced, I can't wear the Christmas ornament earrings.
Now I'm ready to face the world - but first, I'll spend some quiet moments: I have used my “Catnip Catnap” bookmark to mark a certain page in my new “Unicorns are Jerks” coloring book. I pull out one of my 24 Brilliant Bee fat crayons and apply color to the page “Unicorns fart in elevators. On purpose.” My goodness, what fun!!!
Lastly, I gather my pet rock Theophilus (I named him that because nephew Brian never accepted my $100 offer to make that ancestor's name part of his son Aydin's name); and the two of us leave the house, stepping into my 2001 Honda Accord with the dent in the bumper, and roar out of Harmad Drive to race down Midlothian Turnpike to face the other nuts on the highway.
Alas, if I make a mistake today, I have not found my birthday eraser to eradicate it. I know my sweet Brother always gave me one for Christmas vs. anything more expensive, but has he reached an all-time low by becoming an INDIAN-GIVER? (p.c. Be damned!!)
In grateful appreciation for your being-here-for me at this milestone in my life.
Mary Ann
(Wife, mother, mother-in-law, sister, sister-in-law, aunt, aunt-in-law, great aunt, cousin, cousin-in-law, friend)
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