An 80-ish Birthday Party for My Aunt, the Pistol
by Ferida Wolff
My aunt is, and always has been, a pistol. She knows her mind and has no qualms about sharing her thoughts, ideas, and suggestions. Like at her 80-ish birthday party.
Why 80-ish, you might ask. Well, it was supposed to be a party for her 80th birthday but stuff interfered. Her daughter broke a leg, for instance, and needed special care. And her brother-in-law died. Family has a way of taking precedence.
It seemed like the party idea would fade but then this was my aunt, after all, and she really wanted that party. So around her next birthday, we received an invitation. It invited us to her 80th birthday party in her 81st year. And to emphasize that our presence was desired, there was a photo of my aunt facing a donkey with the words, “Get your donkey (substitute a synonym for donkey) over here.” It was classic.
With regard to planning the party, my aunt said that she would provide the guest list but that everything else was up to her daughter — she would stay out of the planning. As if that were even possible.One hundred and twenty people were invited (I don’t think that I know or ever met that many people in my whole lifetime) and ninety actually showed up. My husband, my sister, and I made the three-hour trip to share in the celebration. I was slightly concerned about my aunt. I hadn’t seen her for a while and eighty seemed way up there. Had she lost it? Was this party idea a last hurrah? When we arrived I was happy to see that my aunt looked magnificent, her blond hair short and styled and her flowing black-and-white skirt stylish. She greeted everyone graciously. I felt relieved.
In between munching and chatting, we were all encouraged (read coerced) to sit for a video to send greetings, birthday wishes, and stories to the birthday-ish girl. Oh, there were many stories told, both on and off camera.
My sister said that when she was a young girl she had resented our aunt for being married to our very handsome uncle because she had always hoped that she, herself, would marry him some day. I understood; our uncle was tall and slim and quite a hunk. No doubt that attracted our aunt, too.
My cousin revealed that despite my aunt’s hands-off intention, she was seriously hands-on — in macro and micro ways. My aunt strongly suggesting that her daughter and husband include the walkway in their plans when they were just intending on having their patio bricked. When they said they didn’t think the workmen were available, she said that she knew they could make it happen. (They did.) And she very quietly inquired about the color of the napkins.
When the cake was brought out, I saw there was the same photo — in icing — that was on the invitation. It was also on the souvenir cookies. I wrapped up a couple to show my kids when they visited but I couldn’t see myself sinking my teeth into someone’s donkey. One of the guests sang a song set to the music of Sunrise, Sunset from Fiddler on the Roof but with personal and irreverent lyrics. My aunt laughed. I didn’t get all the references but I laughed, too. I figured that anything outré about my aunt must be true and no doubt funny.
My aunt blew out the two candles (an 8 and a 0), which confused one of my cousins who thought there would be eighty-plus candles covering the cake; he was looking for the drama and perhaps a conflagration.
Then my aunt made a touching farewell speech. She said what a great party it was and how pleased she was that so many friends and family members came to spend her 80-ish birthday with her. It was very humble. And then she invited everyone to her 90th birthday party — which would be even bigger and better!
I looked over at my cousin, her long-suffering daughter, and saw the slight shake of her head.
Way to go, Auntie. I was glad to see that you still had it.
©2010 Ferida Wolff for SeniorWomen.com
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