Turning 80

I think that the time you turn 80, you should be able to do whatever the hell you want.
You should be able to make off-color comments.
You should be able to push people on the subway.
You should be able to pass wind with wild abandon.
You should be able to tell it like it is.
In fact, by the time you turn 80, you should be able to do just about anything you want to do short of being a mass murderer. In fact, if I ever make it to 80, I plan to take up smoking again. That would be awesome.

My Aunt Chui's just turned 80 last week.
I just got back from her surprise birthday party in Ft. Stockton, Texas.
What a great woman. She rocks.

Of course, doing all the things that age entitles you to doesn't really cross your mind when you are actually that age. My Aunt Chui would never make off-color comments, much less pass wind with with wild abandon. She is way too dignified for that. She's a lot like my mom.

My Aunt Chui, short for Jesusita, or "Jesse" as the gringos called her, raised my two cousins on her own. And that was how it was for as long as I could remember. In fact, for the longest time, I really never knew that she actually had a husband at one time. I suppose I bought into that whole stork scam until I wondered one day why I didn't have another uncle that lived with my Aunt Chui. I think that for people of my parent's generation, the best way to deal with uncomfortable issues was to just pretend nothing ever happened.

But all that didn't really matter to me as a kid, because going to my aunt's West Texas home was always a great time. She was (and still is) an incredible cook. Being an only child, I loved being in the house with my cousins. My older cousin David was always my hero. He could do all sorts of cool stuff that I tried to copy, but never with much success.

My other cousin Monica was always a free spirit. She was 5 years older than me and always seemed like she was into cool adult things. I do have a vague memory of her being very sad and telling me that something called "The Beatles" broke up. I may have been around 6 or 7, and I had no clue what she was talking about or why these Beatles just couldn't be fixed. But I do remember her playing "Let it be" over and over again. The whole thing was very grown up.

Without question, my fondest memories growing up were Christmases at my Aunt Chui's house. In fact, I can still remember looking out the window and spotting a television tower or some other thing in the distance with a blinking red light and being convinced that it was Rudolf leading the way for Santa to leave presents for me and my cousins. These Christmases also included my other cousins, Tony and JoAnn.

There's probably nothing unique in these Christmas memories from hundreds of thousands of other children across America, but somehow my Aunt's home seemed to bring out the best in everyone. It may have been the small town that her house was located. Or it may have been that we were all getting together as a family.

Whatever made my Aunt's house so fun to visit wasn't because we had to be on our best behavior. We didn't. But maybe it was because the grown-ups had to be on their best behavior. My parents didn't argue. My Dad got mad at me less. My Mom seemed happier.

Living in New York now, the complain-kvetch-whinge-whine-fuss capital of America, I am truly surprised that my Aunt is as vibrant and vital as she is at 80. Her approach of not dwelling on the negative seems to have worked out pretty well for her. It's gotten her to 80. And to look at her, you might even think she's in her 60's.

So while as much as I feel she's now entitled to make off-color comments, pass wind in public and tell it like it is, she probably won't. That's because when you find something that works for you, you usually stick with it.

But of course, this won't stop me from doing it.

Whatever the case, Rock on, Aunt Chui. Rock on.