Celebrating Art...Celebrating Life

        

          “We were the oldest ones at our own party,”  Art said to me as we were clearing up after guests had left. 

            “ Really? I hadn’t been thinking of our age in comparison to everyone else’s.  I only felt a need to celebrate Art this year on his 75th birthday, in a way we had not done before. (We have never not celebrated birthdays but the times of planning parties revolved around Hayden’s February birthdays until he left home.  Our birthdays were secondary and more low-keyed and continued that way through the decades.) 

  

We had a birthday cake party after dinner on the evening on March 6th and invited friends, not all of whom were able to come.  Why did I suddenly feel compelled to have a party this year? 

“We have to do something more than just go out to dinner at some ordinary restaurant,”  I told Art.  “Everyone does that…and we’ve done that for years…”

 Perhaps it was a reaction to the coronavirus pandemic that is wreaking havoc in the world right now.  Somehow with the daily updates of the number of deaths from this flu virus, the fact that we continue to live in good health is a cause for celebration.  The political scenario has been stressful all winter as has the world news of displaced migrants and continual climate change crises.  It all has seemed more dire.  And, if I allow myself to think of the actual number of years represented  by 75 one could say it’s very close to 80…the dreaded number.

That fear of 80, comes from personal experience caring for Mother and Dad in their old age.  Art was by my side always supportive as I struggled to get through difficult times with them after they turned 80.  They aged in ways they never had imagined for themselves.  They, too, had escaped serious illnesses into Dad’s first 20 years of retirement and throughout their 70’s.  They traveled and enjoyed life doing just what they had always planned.  It was after 80 when “things started to go downhill”, Mother always said.  (I’m not sure that was a great thought to leave to us but it was an assessment of how it was for them.)  In the years beyond 80 came strokes, and dementia and Alzheimer’s, broken bones, and constant reassessment of living situations.  There was no more travel and as Mother would often remind me “old people who are sick, or don’t feel well, aren’t their real selves anymore…we needed to have known them in their good years.” 

Art’s Mother descended into Alzheimer’s in her 80’s which stayed with her until she was no longer present but still alive into her 90’s.   Art and I agree that we carry an image of continually leading  the good life that we are now until 80 when we will begin to “go downhill” as Mother summed up.  Perhaps we can defy all that and make our own way but the downhill image strongly resonates and will until it changes and we see what is in store for us.

  

Friends who came to the party said to me, “Art is such a great guy…I love him because he’s always so upbeat and likes to joke around.”

  

Others said, “Thanks so much for including us in Art’s celebration…we feel honored to be here.”

“Art is very special, I wouldn’t have missed coming,” said another friend. 

Of those people who had other commitments one or two sent cards in the mail and called. Of the people who did come on Friday I have heard from most as to how special it was to be there.

Art was upbeat all day on his birthday thoroughly enjoying all the attention he was getting with phone calls from family around the country, and emails from others. He opened birthday cards as they arrived each day in the mailbox and put them on the counter to enjoy and reread.  I don’t remember a birthday of Art’s where he seemed so truly like a kid in his excitement about his own birthday.  I was imagining what it must have been like in his childhood to have a twin brother to share excitement with every March 6^th . (He is not one to moan about getting old but each year seems to get more upbeat about old age).

Celebrating in a special way as we did this year feels like we did the right thing and left us both with a sense of satisfaction if not gratitude that we have come so far together – 45 years to be exact.  Now we can set aside numbers (at least for six months until my big day comes around) and be grateful for each day…and remember to celebrate the positive more often. 

“It doesn't matter that we happen to be the oldest amongst most of our friends here,”  I told Art.  "They aren't far behind and it's not about numbers …just attitude and lifestyles."

Perhaps we will defy the dreaded 80’s if we keep living as we are.