THE BIG 6-0

When my mom turned fifty. I was twelve. I thought she was really ancient. In a few days, I will be celebrating my sixtieth birthday. I was wrong. Fifty is not that old after all.

I have been thinking about the significance of this birthday// What makes it different from all of my other birthdays?   

Well, for one thing, I am letting myself eat junk food my entire birthday week. All the cookies, cake, chips and ice cream I want. When the week is over, it will be back to salad and fruit. Until then, I am having a great time.

On my fiftieth birthday, I told a friend how much I disliked turning fifty. It seemed so old. She said fifty was a great age to be. She said that I should embrace it and be happy. I didn't appreciate her words then, but I do now.

That's what's different for me about turning sixty. I will embrace it. I will be happy. I want to have fun. I want to laugh.  I have always been afraid of embarrassing myself.  I finally understand that life is too short to worry about what other people think.  As long as I know that I am doing the best I can, that's all that matters.  During her Believe Concert Cher said, "It's really fun to be old and stupid."   She was right. Living in a facility will always suck.  As long as I have people in my life who make me laugh and allow me to be silly sometimes, I think I will be okay.

The best gift anyone can give me is to visit me. I get very lonely here. Having visitors on my birthday would mean a lot to me.

This birthday is about being positive. It's about looking forward. It's about being hopeful.

My sixtieth birthday is going to be awesome. I cannot wait!!

THANK YOU FOR BEING MY FRIEND

When I was growing up physical therapy was torture.  In elementary school, the physical therapist did not care if the stretching she was doing to my limbs hurt/ The woman would tell me that the stretching did not hurt.  I wondered how she knew. That was the attitude of all of my PTs in the 1960s. They were doing their job. I was getting my therapy. That was all that mattered.

In 1970, when I was in the 8th grade, a new physical therapist began working at my school. She was the first physical therapist to ever say she was sorry if she hurt me while bending and stretching my arms and legs.   Her words meant a lot to me because I knew she wasn't just saying it. She was genuinely sorry that the stretching hurt me. Her name was JoAnn. too. We both spelled our name differently. but I think it was a sign of the friendship that was to come.

When I met JoAnn she loved gothic romance novels. Her favorite author was Victoria Holt. It wasn't long before I was reading them too and dreaming of moving to England to marry a rich, handsome man and live on his estate. We'd talk about the characters and plots. When I was young, those books were the coolest books I had ever read. Those books came with me when I moved here. I couldn't bear to part with them.

JoAnn did my hair and makeup on the day of my prom. The night itself was a disaster. My date and I had nothing in common. My prom was special because JoAnn made me look and feel like Cinderella for a night. 

One year, on my mom's birthday, JoAnn and my eighth-grade teacher, invited me to go to a John Denver concert with them. My mom could not believe that I  would consider going out rather than celebrating her birthday with her, but that's what I did. We had pizza at JoAnn's house before going to the concert. It was a fun night. In case you're wondering,, my mom, celebrated her birthday with my brother and his family. And, eventually, she forgave me.

We lost touch for many years. After I contacted her daughter on Facebook, JoAnn and I began emailing each other. When we finally met for lunch it was as though no time had passed. We talked and laughed just like we always had. Our friendship was proof that you don't have to see each other every month to have a bond with a person. You can pick up where you left off no matter how much time has gone by. 

JoAnn was with me the first time I saw Sonny and Cher in concert. She had gotten me a cardboard cutout standee of Cher from a record store. That Cher cardboard cutout stood in my room for years freaking people out.   She did all she could to try to arrange for me to meet Sonny and Cher.  I think she would have driven me anywhere to meet them. I wanted JoAnn to be with me again in 2014 when I saw Cher for the last time. Three weeks before the concert, I sprained my knee. I was sure that I would not be able to go. JoAnn called me when I was in the ER awaiting news on my knee. She assured me that I would go to the concert and we would have a great time.

The morning of the concert, after I found out we would be meeting Cher's BFF, Paulette. I asked JoAnn to get gifts for Paulette to give to Cher. When I talked to JoAnn later in the day, she told me she had googled Cher to help her decide what to buy. The reason I  chose the photo in this post is that Paulette is holding the beautiful flowers and box of candy JoAnn chose for Cher. She was right.  We had a great time.

The first time JoAnn came to see me here. I cried and told her how much I wanted to go home. She said to me that Cher was a good role model for me because if Cher found herself in my situation she'd find a way to make it work. A few days later she emailed me. At the end of the email she had written, "WWCD?" I knew what she meant.

I learned several weeks ago that JoAnn had passed away. it is hard for me to believe I will never talk to her again.

I love my brothers very much. When I was fourteen though, all I wanted was a sister. I guess it's a girl thing. I would ask JoAnn repeatedly if she could please be my sister. She would explain to me repeatedly why that was not possible. The time we spoke I reminded her of what I asked her all those years ago. The last thing she said to me before our conversation ended was, "I'm your sister, okay?"

Thank you, JoAnn.  Thank you for being my friend.