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Roder -- Most memorable birthday was my 66th Tuesday, June 23, 2009
By Mary S. Roder
June is birthday month for me. My most memorable birthday was the year I turned 66.
That number doesn't usually trigger a big celebration but the fact is, the planning began before my 65th birthday and this was the first set of dates that worked for everyone.
With six children scattered throughout Wisconsin, Iowa, Kansas and the seventh all the way out in California, saying it was difficult to find a time when they could all get together is an understatement. The party ended up being close to my 66th birthday. They dubbed it the golden jubilee of Mom's sweet 16th. I have creative children.
As a part of the three-day party they did a thorough roast, bringing up all sorts of silly and/or embarrassing moments -- and there are many -- that have been my plague.
Someone complained that I was a difficult person to roast because I make public all my goofs, but they still found some I would prefer no one knew about. They countered every story with a gift that would help me keep from making the same mistake again. Among other things I received labels to put on the soles of all my shoes saying "This is mine" so I don't walk off with shoes belonging to someone else.
I got a glow-in-the-dark lime green purse to help me recognize my own and not take a chance of being accused of purse-snatching. Despite all the teasing, they gave me a chance to pass along any advice or bits of wisdom I had acquired during the 66 years leading up to that day.
On the spur of the moment, I was speechless, but I have been working on that and the next time I am asked, I will be ready.
I admit that the wisdom I gained during those years isn't exactly what I expected it would be. Yes, I learned that the golden rule is truly the only way to conduct my life. Yes, I learned that happiness isn't having what I want, but wanting what I have. If I had not learned those lessons through living, I could have learned them by reading the samplers in the needlepoint catalogs that crowd my mailbox.
I hoped to come up with a long list of more personal, profound statements gleaned from my experiences and observations and those of my friends. Gems that my grandchildren would beg me to pass along. What follows are a few of the snippets of knowledge that make up my list. They may not be profound, but they are honest and I pass them along with humility. I plan to add to this list as time goes on and, hopefully, some day my children will benefit.
When you have to borrow your husband's long johns, put them on backwards. That puts the pouchy part where a lady needs it most. Never use sour cream with chives when making Cherry Fluff dessert.
A can of dusting spray left on a dresser can be mistaken for a can of deodorant.
When your husband is teaching you target shooting, if you want a second lesson, don't hit the can with your first shot.
A magazine's slick cover rolls up into an effective funnel when the snub-nosed can of gasoline you have just carried half a mile doesn't reach into your car's gas-starved tank.
It is more helpful to command, "Stop!" than to say, "You just backed into a light post."
A pencil on a thread dangled over your enlarged stomach is not an accurate predictor of the sex of your unborn child.
Never look so far into the future that you miss what is happening at the moment.
Don't try to smother a lawn mower fire by tipping it upside down. There is a little hole in the gas tank cap that lets the gas run out. More gas on the fire is bad.
When your children go to college for the food, it does not speak highly of your reputation as a cook.
No matter how long and how dark the night, morning and its light will come.
When the potatoes boil dry, quickly blanch them with cold water and then cut off the black spots. No burned taste remains and, if you can get the smoke out of the kitchen on time, no one will ever guess.
Laugh at your own mistakes before anyone else laughs at them.
In a golf outing I shot an errant ball and one of our foursome asked, "Why did you shoot that direction?" Come on -- like I could choose which direction the ball was going to go? I quipped, "I guess I am more beautiful than I am smart."
Her response was immediate and very sarcastic: "You really are a blonde." Perhaps when I let my hair go to gray, I will get the respect an old lady deserves!
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