There’s a popular saying now: “Being in my 20s in the 70s was more fun than being in my 70s in the 20s.” There is a lot of truth in that, but I’m glad I’m in my 70s now and not in my 20s.

My parents always made my siblings and me feel special on our birthdays.

Mama always made a buttermilk pound cake and decorated it elaborately for our birthdays. She made a “doll cake” for my birthdays for many years. They were things of art I didn’t fully appreciate at the time.

There were no cake molds then for making such a cake. Mama had to make the cake in several layers of different sizes and then do some trim work to make a perfect full evening gown-shaped cake.

Everything was made from scratch. She took no shortcuts with a cake mix or store-bought icing. (I don’t think that was even a thing back then.) I wish I had a photograph of one of those doll cakes that I could share on my blog.  

Mama’s hand and fingers must have been sore for days after painstakingly decorating the doll’s evening gowns with ruffles and flowers of stiff homemade icing. I had no idea how difficult it was to use her metal cake decorator gizmo until I was old enough to try to use it myself. The operative word is “try.”

Daddy only made home movies on the following special occasions: Christmas morning, our birthdays, and sometimes on Easter morning. Film and its developing were expensive, so he usually managed to get our birthdays and those two holidays on one roll of 8mm movie film.

It was always a great day when a roll of film was developed. Daddy would set up his movie screen and movie projector in the living room, thread the projector, and alert whoever was appointed to then turn off the lights. It was fun reliving the events as many of the occasions projected onto the grainy white screen had happened more than a year earlier.

It was even more fun years later to look at those home movies. At least, it was fun until sometimes when the film would get stuck and the heat from the projector light would immediately burn a hole in the film. But I digress.

It was a special time to be a child in the 1950s and 1960s. It was a good time to be a child. At least, I can say that because I was a white middle-class child in the United States. It wasn’t as good of a time if you were a black child in the United States.

Until all the public schools were racially-integrated and black citizens secured the right to vote and receive equal service in restaurants, hotels, and in public transportation and employment opportunities, it was not a great time for them. I’m aware of that now. I wasn’t back then.

We weren’t bothered by social media and the only drugs we knew about were the ones prescribed by Dr. Nicholas Lubchenko, the family doctor who made house calls when we were sick. If you had stayed home from school because you were sick, you’d better be in bed and not on the couch watching “I Love Lucy” on the black-and-white TV when he came to check on you!

The years I spent in school dragged by slow as molasses, but the rest of my life has passed in a split second. That’s an impossible concept for people under 30 years old to understand. They cannot imagine how fast their next 40 years are going to fly.

So Happy 71^st Birthday to me! I can’t believe I’m this old, but many of my friends and relatives were not so fortunate. Therefore, I try to value every day God gives me. I have been blessed beyond anything I deserved.

Since my last blog post

Finally feeling like I had recovered from having Covid in December, I thought last Thursday would be a good day on which to get my second dose of the shingles vaccine. I guess it was as good as any. I don’t want to cause anyone not to get the Shingrix shot, but that second injection laid me low for the entire weekend. I’m just one of those people who often has ill effects from vaccines, so the aches and fever were not a surprise. That they lasted for more than three days was. (Postscript added January 31, 2024: I should have also said that I had Shingles in my right eye a few years ago and it felt like there was a knife in my eye for weeks; therefore, I was eager to get the Shingrix vaccine as soon as it was available free of charge to Medicare patients. The discomfort of the side effects of the shot pale in comparison to the pain of having Shingles!)

I took advantage of my down time by reading a very good historical novel.

I admit that I had a “senior moment” when I typed the title of this blog post. Just before pressing the “publish” button, I realized I had typed the title as “I’ve Made it Around the Moon 71 Times.” Thank goodness I caught that mistake! I never would have heard the last of it! After a rough few days, it was good to have something to laugh about.

Until my next blog post

I hope you are reading a book that’s so good you didn’t want to put it down long enough to read my blog. (I read a book like that over the weekend – The Woman in the White Kimono, by Ana Johns.)

Remember the people of Ukraine.

Janet