60 Rounded

Couldn't resist that title. Yes, it is true. I turned 60 years old on Wednesday, March 8. And Saturday night, I celebrated with my family and friends ( 24 in all ) at an lovely inn in Gramercy Park-- a long way from Norfolk Road, my street growing up in Waterloo, Iowa.

I've planned this party since June (see February, 2006, Spanish Tales, Family Ties post ) down to a seating chart, designing runners, sprinkling little gold confetti stars on to the table clothes so that they would glitter against the candle light. The inn is very special--a real New York brownstone situated in the block were Washington Irving lived over 100 years ago, and the same block where O. Henry wrote many of his memorable short stories about life in New York including my all time favorite ( OK, I don't care if it's schmaltz-y ), "The Gift of the Magi".

The inn is a B and B, but it also has teas and dinner parties. So, it was as close as it gets to having everyone to my very own home--Victorian couches, old silk lampshades, and a fireplace in the wonderful walnut paneled drawing room where we had cocktails. And a view of the garden below from the dining room with window boxes filled with more evergreens sparkling white in the darkness.

It was a beautiful night in New York, actually, unseasonably warm. I practiced my remarks on the way downtown from my apartment, the birthday cake balanced on my knees. My driver, a west African, listened respectfully as I talked on and on until I'd finished my run through. He looked around at me and smiled. I have no idea what he thought since the references in the speech were all related to very parochial notions--like Dave Letterman's Top Ten, lots of references to the 1960s, lots of references to my Iowa roots. But he listened anyway, meanwhile missing ruts so the cake didn't spill onto the car floor.

There were many images that stick with me.
Here are a few:
•driving up to the brownstone that houses the inn to see tiny evergreens with white lights sparkling in the long narrow windows;
•watching the room transform as the staff lowered the lights, lit the candelabra, and the dozens of pillar candles on mantelpiece and the lovely walnut bar;
•greeting my friends some of whom came from Philadelphia and Baltimore, some of whom left busy CPA firms ( always work on Saturday by March ), or slipped away from corporate retreats.
•watching everyone at the dinner tables, the buzz of chatter and laughter on their faces, as they got to know their dinner partners;
•watching my sister and her husband who had flown from Iowa to join me for this day get into the flow of the party, my sister reminiscing with my son, Chris, about when he was 3.

I did deliver my remarks. I talked about Martin Buber's notion of trust building ( they all knew me well enough to know that I wouldn't miss an opportunity to talk about a little theology ). I talked about Buber;s remarkable belief that if two people can stand face to face and speak earnestly about a significant or perhaps difficult topic, that something more than the two of them results--that the "in between" becomes larger than either of them alone and builds trust. He says that either person may not be totally trustworthy ( who of us really is? ) but that something happens in that middle ground that creates something new.

I think that's what grace is--what a graced moment really amounts to. With almost everyone in that room Saturday night, I have had a graced moment at one time or another, and those trust/grace moments have changed me. They may have lasted only a split second or have happened over time, but I remembered those moments as I looked around the room at my two grown sons,( the lights of my life ), at my sister, the wind beneath my wings, and at my friends, people of many layers, who have so enriched my life.

And then it was over and the waiters were helping me carry my presents to the car. I rode home with my best friend, back up town. We kibbitzed a little about some of the people, and specifics of the event but I was mostly quiet. I have marked the time I have been on this earth, the last 6 decades, at least, and it feels good.

I'm thinking I should change my blog title now. But I think I'll wait a bit while I get used to the fact that I've really, really rounded 60. I never thought I would even say the number out loud much less publicize it. But, it's not so bad. In fact, I don't mind so much at all.
M.C.