Happy Birthday Nana

Today marks the eighty fifth anniversary of my dear grandmother's birth. She's lived through the Great Depression, numerous wars, the first moon landing, and the millennium. She's birthed eleven children and survived quadruple bypass surgery. So to celebrate this milestone in such a miraculous woman's life we had an afternoon barbecue in her Roxborough home. I was starting to doubt our white trash cred, but luckily it was reaffirmed today with the "party zone" decorations, my Nana's sparkling "happy birthday" antennas, and the dancing-singing stuffed animals. Fortunately, my Nana's never been a fussy person.

Yet the day was a lot of fun, even though understated. I was happy to see my Nana having a good time since I knew she was fairly nervous about the event. You see, 15 years ago or so, my grandmother's sister, during her own eighty fifth birthday party, suddenly put her head down on the table and died right then and there. We were thankful she went peacefully but it sure as hell put a damper on the party. Pretty selfish of her if you ask me.

Nana had a good sense of humor about it all though. Not only did she wear the ridiculous birthday antennas, but while we were singing Happy Birthday she even messed with us a little by starting to lower her head to the table. You gotta love an eighty five year old woman who can fake her own death in front of her loved ones. And she even laughed it off when I called her senile and referred to her as "old lady" all day.

After the bday rituals, many of us headed out to the front porch as we often do at family events to bring up embarrassing stories and tease each other about our current happenings. We had plenty of material since old pictures were being passed around, and Freddie and I both showed up with black eyes while Trisha nursed an all too apparent hangover. Plus, we recently found out that my uncle Vincent had a fleeting fascination with German culture during his adolescence and wanted to make his confirmation name Wolfgang. You would think calling him Uncle Wolfy would get old, but believe me the hilarity of it does not die down in the least.

But dear Uncle Wolfy took the ribbing in stride and just promised he would get his revenge during the Dougherty Family Beer Olympics that our aunts and uncles challenged us to over Easter. Its tentatively planned for summer and, although it began fairly innocently, it has really been turned up a notch in the past few weeks. Even more so than the cousins, the aunts and uncles are ready for the challenge and insistent that they will destroy us in the competition. Things are getting heated: Rumors have started circulating, some trade negotiations have been discussed, people are at risk of being axed from their team- the Gauntlet will probably look tame in comparison.

But on a serious note, I'm so grateful to have my Nana in my life and that she is relatively healthy for her age. My Aunt Sharon's mother was there today as well, and at 87 she is already fully blind and wheel chair bound. She's a sweet woman and extremely happy despite her circumstances, but I'm glad I don't have to see my Nana in the same position. I just hope that she will remain this way for years to come. I'm sure my cousins would be happy to step up to the plate if necessary, but it just wouldn't be the same without her there to make fun of the length of my skirts or my new choice of jewelry. The woman's got talent when it comes to insults, and that is something I truly respect and admire. Some people say they hope to be in great shape in their old age or still be able to live on their own. I just hope I have the wonderful sense of humor my Nana has and the impressive ability to dryly ask her thirteen year old granddaughter if she's been "playing makeup" when she shows up for Christmas with poorly applied eyeliner on. Hypothetically, ofcourse.

So cheers to you, Mary Dougherty, you senile old quack! I look forward to you faking your own death for years to come!