Rant #2,362: Happy Birthday, Sweet 89

I am going to make a powerful statement here, but I am not going to go the ego-gratification route of singer Billie Ellish, who reportedly stripped down to her civvies in a video shown at her concert to combat body shaming (or was it really another Liz Hurley-inspired "look at me, look at me, LOOK AT ME!" moment?).

I am done, I am finished, I have reached the end of the line, I have had enough. I am cooked. I have been through the ringer. I can take it no more.

OK, since that is now out of the way (and no, I won't bare myself down to my underwear to address this point), I will proclaim--and not through a face mask to protect you from the over-rated, over-stated and panic-driven coronavirus--that today is a happy day for my family.

I will happily proclaim that today is my mother's birthday.

She turns a young 89 today.

I am sure that when she thinks about it, she cannot believe that she has made it to this age, but she has, and she has made it on sheer drive, determination, and yes, probably a lot of luck.

While people have been frenzied by the media into thinking that the second coming of the plague is here, she has more important things to worry about as the matriarch of our family.

She has to worry about my father, who has had an up and down road the last fews months, but has finally turned the corner and looks and feels a whole lot better--a lot of that through my mother's determination and strength.

She has to worry about her kids--we are still her kids, even if both of us are in our 60s, we will always be her kids, and those of us who are parents--myself included--know that the moment your children are born, you both love them and worry about them, almost in equal measure, so my mother has been doing both for over 60 years.

She has to worry about her extended family, meaning her children's spouses and her grandkids, who she loves dearly and also tries to see them through whatever they are going through at the moment.

She has to worry about keeping her house in order, and no, my friends from the old neighborhood, she no longer wakes up with a vacuum in hand at 4 a.m. to make sure every nook and cranny is taken care of, but she gets up early enough that I swear, if I had to, I could eat my dinner right off of her floor.

And she has to worry about the world we are in now, a world of non-social behavior, and world of panic, and a world of scorn. She knows that this is not the world she was born into, and she has to worry about the future, as it impacts not only herself and my father, but also her kids, their spouses, and her grandkids.

Just think of what my mother has seen in 89 years. She has witnessed the time when people crowded around their radio to hear the latest radio shows from the top talent in the world; she then saw people crowd around something called television to see, as best the could, what amounted at the time to radio with pictures; and now, she has seen people crowd around something called the Internet, a pastiche of radio, TV and modern technology that truly rules our way of life.

And my mother knows true suffering, suffering that later generations cannot comprehend, only read about and pay attention to. She has experienced the Depression and she has lived through  World War II ... yes, every generation has its suffering, but I don't think that suffering can even remotely compare with what those hafe seen and experienced who were born when my mother was.

And at 89, my mother continues to run around doing one thing or another, putting people a quarter of her age to shame with her "never stand still" nature.

When I look at my mother, I think about all the happy times she shared with me, and all the terrible times that she kind of walked me through. I think of the laughter, the tears, and the times, even today, when she calls me "Lawrence!" and I stir and shiver ... when I hear that, and when I have heard that for the past nearly 63 years, I know that at least in her eyes, I have done something wrong, and I usually have to walk with my tail between my legs and find out what it is.

I hope I reach 89 years of age like she did and like my dad will in November, and I hope that I can be just like my mom and dad when I reach that age: wise, relatively healthy, and still vital.

While I have a little more than 26 years to prepare for that occasion, my mother still has plenty of things to do, so during the next quarter century, watch out, because if you are in her way, she will mow you down--

And yes, 100 years of age--or even more than that--is NOT out of the question!