Eighty

Eighty years ago my mother's first cries rang through an apartment on Mott Street in lower Manhattan. Her five year old sister threatened that if the baby was a girl she was going to throw her off the fire escape.  After being introduced to her sister, hours after her birth, my aunt had a change of heart.  We gathered for a family BBQ to celebrate the occasion. Through out the day neighbors popped in, flowers were delivered, and renditions of happy birthday accumulated on the answering machine.  Running errands the day prior, my mother announced her goal was to live to 100.  She's the image of health and vitality, waking at 6am every morning with a full social calendar, attending lunches and cultural events with her many groups.  She cooks, cleans and tends to many of the household needs.  My mother's sole indulgence has been a life long love affair with coffee.  She started drinking it as a child in her mother's kitchen, and for years had a 10 cup a day habit. Today she imbibes 3 cups, the last one before bed, which doesn't seem to keep her up at night or interrupt her sleep.  My mother is an inspiration and I can only hope I age with her vigor and stamina.  I wouldn't be surprised if in 20 years we're celebrating her centennial.  Happy Birthday Mom!