90 YEARS YOUNG Kate’s Journal

>”Sam in Sitka” watercolor by kayti sweetland rasmussen

It’s a real treat to live with someone whose memory goes back further than your own. A convergence of the Universe, including planets, constellations and one tiny dwarf planet, gathered at our home last weekend to usher Dr. Advice into his tenth decade.

An awesome hustle and bustle took place preparatory to the celebration, during which I was only allowed to sit like a bump on a pickle and watch while our daughters do what they obviously do extraordinarily well–get a party going with all the bells and whistles.

Friends and family exchanged “Sam” stories, the tiny planet dangled from the fig tree, the only granddaughter dropped off the world’s largest floral arrangement, caught her Uber and flew back to London, old friends “caught up”, new friends were interrogated and judged OK, and food and drink did the hostesses proud.

So now, after having studied the DMV rules for several weeks, the patriarch of our family was discovered good for two more years, having misread the cut-off date.

Welcome to 90 dearest friend and husband, you’ll always be 18 to me.

SKATING INTO THE NEXT 50

(Taken from my diary, 1978)

I am sneaking gradually up on my 50th birthday. It sounds pretty ancient, but feels good that I have come this far. Half a century—my God! They say our life span should be 120 years—if so, I’m still a babe in the woods.

Last month I started the grandsons on roller skating lessons. After the lesson I free skate with them, and it is so much fun I’m asking for roller skates of my own for my birthday, white ones of course.
I went my myself to the rink a week ago, and it felt like flying! Roller skates were an extension of my legs when I was a child, and then ice skates joined them. Until I got my first bike, roller skates were my mode of transportation.

Joanie has been taking her granddaughter for lessons too. Last week we decided to come skate and then go to lunch in honor of our birthdays. Hers is March 29, and mine April 2, but she is only 48.

She picked my up in the rain, and when we arrived at the rink, out jumped eight of my friends including my dear daughter Jan, who drove all the way up from Ben Lomond so early in the morning.

Joanie had arranged a surprise skating party and it was a big surprise to see how many of us remembered how to skate. We all remembered having a skate key hanging around our necks on a dirty cotton string. After skating for a couple of hours we all went back to her house for a birthday lunch.

*************************************************************************************

Fast forward through 37 years of Life.

A kaleidoscopic look at years of sadness and joy, during which small roller skaters grew up and had children of their own, and yet we somehow still remained 50. It must be a trick of nature.

We were building a large room addition at the time of the birthday, and were able to have own skating parties on the large cement floor, before the tiles were installed. I think all the kids thought everybody had their own skating rink in their house.

I cleaned out some closets today with stuff destined for the thrift shop, and found the white roller skates I had been given for the long ago birthday. Shortly after they were in my possession I tripped and fell and broke my elbow, and they were forever relegated to the back of the closet, a reminder of early skating parties.

Two weeks ago we said goodbye to our dear friend Joanie. I hope she knew how many times I thought of flying around the rink with her.

A FLURRY OF BIRTHDAYS

It seems that this week contains the celebration of birthdays–not mine, but I get to be part of the celebrations which is even better.

Yesterday’s luncheon on the island (Alameda) was in honor of two 87 year old high school friends, and Friday’s soiree is for a couple of 70 somethings. We were missing one of our group yesterday. It seems that she got a wrong number the night before at her home, and while in the midst of explaining that they had reached the wrong person, she got a coughing spell, which alarmed the caller to the point that they called the police to come take a look at her. The first she knew of it, the police were shining bright lights through her front windows and pounding on her door! Nice to know there are still strangers who care, but still she elected to opt out of our gathering the next day. Maybe she was still coughing. Who knows? She missed a lively party complete with small fancy cakes and the whole restaurant singing the “Happy Birthday” song.

Speaking of the police, the husband of one of our birthday girls had been a policeman. She related the story of a peeping Tom who kept showing up wherever she happened to be for a week or so. Her husband had been in the hospital for a few weeks when she first noticed the peeper. After the husband came home and was resting on the sofa one evening, the guy came to their front door. Her husband leaped from the sofa, grabbed his gun and chased the fellow down the street while streaming expletives at him. They never had any more problems along those lines.

I had a phone call from my much younger cousin the night before asking the date of my anniversary. It is about to be 68 years, and she mused that I had been married nearly her whole life. She had been a flower girl tossing rose petals up the aisle in her white dress our grandmother had made. An adorable little redhead whose braids were wrapped around her head European style. She told me it was the first wedding she had been to, and I told her it had been my first as well. One of the ladies yesterday had been in our wedding and I would have asked one of the others but she got married the week before me.

Since I was such a wedding novice, and our was shaping up to be the “wedding of the century”, I had fits of terror and tears beginning at about 1 p.m. My father, at a loss as to what to do about this dramatic display, assured me that I did not have to go through with the affair, even though the trap had been set: flowers and cake and gifts already arrived and in place. Nevertheless, I made an appearance at 4 o’clock on my father’s arm still dripping tears throughout the service while wiping my nose on the back of the wrist of my lovely borrowed dress which a cousin had lent, and the future Dr. A. whispering “Stop that!”

That’s me on the right on our graduation day.

Our waitress, who takes care of our group regularly, is clearly amused and bemused by the sight of 8 ladies of a certain age who still connect to renew old memories. She was fascinated yesterday by the story of one of our group telling about the time she found an orchid on her front porch delivered for her husband’s birthday from an old girlfriend of his. She and the girlfriend had the same name, and were referred to as “old Helen” and “new Helen”. The orchid was from “old Helen”.

I plumbed their memories about a girl who insisted upon calling Dr. Advice at his office and at our home after we married. She had been some other fellow’s girlfriend in High School so there wasn’t a personal connection, but I guess she was just hopeful. I don’t blame her, he was pretty cute. (Still is.)

That’s Dr. Advice second from the left with all that blond hair!

GOODBYE UNCLE LENNIE

He wasn’t our uncle; he wasn’t even related except by choice. For over 65 years he was our “big brother”, wise advisor, lawyer and well-loved friend. The only photos I could find among the many taken during the years of our friendship, had someone’s arm around him, so I’m including this one. He was “Uncle” Lennie to many people for his wisdom and good humor, especially to us and our family.

He loved kids, and as his grandchildren began arriving, he took them all for a day of fun every Saturday. When our own grandchildren arrived, my husband’s first remark was to say he wanted to be the same kind of grandfather as Lennie. I think he has been.

For thirty years he gave his own all-male birthday party at Scott’s, a prominent Oakland restaurant, to which over 100 guests came, entertained and were entertained with jokes and hi-jinks. He was fond of saying that women were also invited as long as they would jump out of the birthday cake naked! To my knowledge that never happened. He always arrived at the party in a limo wearing a tophat and his red clown nose and a big bow tie.

Lennie was a joke-teller supreme. He told jokes to his grandkids, to the postman, the waiters, and to anyone who would listen. The coming of the internet with its joke-sharing gave him constant new material. His penchant for crazy hats and a red clown nose added to the fun. At one memorable party he brought the mascot mule for the Oakland A’s and at another, the cast of the musical “Chicago” came to liven things up. Red clown noses were passed out at his funeral which he would have approved.

He was a CPA, and at the age of 44 he went to Law School and became an attorney as well. Besides that, he became Probate Referee for the County of Alameda for many years. His loyalty to the University of California was legendary, and he loved the Cal football team, win or lose.

He was a good athlete, including tennis and raquetball, and loved golfing, was a member and also the president of the prestigious Sequoya Country Club. Upon his death, the flag was lowered to half-mast in respect to a man loved not only by fellow members, but by the bar and wait staff as well.

Most of all, he was our dear friend, and we will miss him. He always used to say, “Just because they don’t call you, you call them. The phone works both ways. Remember, you’re a long time dead.” Lennie Gross, your 94 years went all too soon.