Seventy, Eighty, Ninety, and the Brother

Most of mom's siblings gathered with other family this Saturday past to partake in an eightieth birthday celebration. My uncle, who is in his seventies (he's the only one of the group who doesn't discuss his age, I know he's older than my mom, but younger than the birthday girl) shared several of his many memories of his older sisters and life as their little brother. This is my uncle with his younger sister (my mom, who is seventy). The elder stateswoman, my 90 year old aunt with the new 80 year old celebrant, marveled at how tall all her sisters seem. At one time my aunt Betty towered over her younger sisters. Not so much anymore. Still, trust when I say she still possesses the largest personality.It was a grand celebration, with grand eats, and grand peeps. I'm sorry that the two other sisters (75 and 68) couldn't be in attendance, but it was a last minute gathering.

Diane, my aunt's only daughter, pulled the thing together hastily, waiting while her mom recovered from double by-pass surgery some weeks ago. All birthday celebrations are special, especially among this group, but this one had an air of something more. They were all in supreme story tellin' mode.

To my seventy, eighty, and ninety year old aunts (and uncle) and the baby aunt, Rose, happy birthevery day. Cheers!