Ever really think about getting old? Like, really really old? But good old? This weekend was my husband’s grandmother’s 90th birthday. We flew out to see the family and have a little party. She’s sharp as a tack. You have to speak up a little, but she can still beat you at pinochle. All of her six children and a huge part of her grandchildren were there. It was so neat to see her so happy.
We got to spend a night out with my FIL (father-in-law) too. He told us so many stories of things he’s experienced, my head was spinning. He saw Liberace. An Sammy Davis Jr. And Elvis. In the front row.
I’ve kept journals semi faithfully since I was a kid. Just a planner where I write down what we go do. I’m convinced that’s the only way I’ll remember anything when I’m well, 40. There was a lot of talk about age, about science and cures and health and living. We might live longer in this generation. We might see more craziness. Will we run out of water? Will it be too hot? It’s funny to think about what has changed in 90 years, and what might change in the next 90.