Today, December 16th, was a very important day. First of all, it was the 237th anniversary of the Boston Tea Party. In 1773, the colonists were sick of paying all the taxes that King George was levying upon them, and eventually got to a "we're mad as hell and we're not gonna take it anymore" moment. A bunch of guys got dressed up like Indians (in those days no one cared about political correctness; they were still "Indians", not "Native Americans") and dumped all the tea that the British had shipped through the East India Company into Boston Harbor. For all intents and purposes, it was the beginning of the Revolutionary War. This makes December 16th a significant historical date. This particular December 16th, however, holds even more significance. You see, today marks exactly one month to go till my birthday on January 16th. Big deal, you say; everyone has birthdays. Why is this birthday special? Well, I'll tell you why: I was born in 1951, that's why. Go ahead, do the math...I'll wait. Got it? Good. Big number, isn't it? Well, I know you'll agree with me that this big birthday is more significant than many other, run-of-the-mill, garden variety big birthdays, simply by virtue of the fact that it almost didn't happen! Anyway, here are some fun facts about 1951:
A new car cost $1800.00. Bread was .16 cents a loaf, a first class postage stamp .03 cents, and the average annual salary was $4200.00. Harry Truman was in the White House. The Yankees beat the Giants in the World Series, shuttling back and forth between the Polo Grounds in upper Manhattan and Yankee Stadium in the Bronx. And, believe it or not, we were just six years removed from the end of the Holocaust. Had my parents not left Europe when they did, I might not be sitting here writing posts. Unbelievable. So to celebrate my last month in my fifties, I took Babby to the movies. She's been bugging me to take her for months. In the car all the way there she kept trying to get me to turn around and take her home. "I don't want to bother you," she said, in typical Babby fashion, "I'll just go for a walk on Thirteenth Avenue". Of course it was about twelve degrees at the time, so I decided that shpatziring* on the Avenue was out of the question. When we got to the theater in Sheepshead Bay, Babby made a beeline to the restroom. She came out all upset, so I asked her what the problem was. "I couldn't wash my hands; the sinks don't work", she said. I told her that you have to put your hands under the faucet and the sink turns on automatically. "How was I supposed to know that?" It was a valid question. The last time she saw a movie, Uncle Dave's** beard was still black. She washed her hands in the water fountain. Now her hands were wet. I ran into the men's room to get paper towels. Nope. None to be had. Electric hand dryers. So I went to the concession stand and got some napkins. After the movie was over, we both needed the bathroom. I figured I'd take a chance: I went into the ladies' Room with her to show her how to use the sinks and the hand dryer. Luckily it was empty when we went in, but it didn't stay that way. Soon a woman came in, gave me a glance, sized up the situation and didn't say anything. Whew. On the way home, Babby kept talking about what a great time she had, but also about all the new-fangled gadgets she had encountered. "I don't belong in this world," she lamented, a refrain I'd heard from her a thousand times before. I knows how she feels...without even asking, the guy at the theater had sold me a senior citizen ticket. Time to move to Century Village.
* Shpatziring = Strolling.
** Uncle Dave = My Brother-in-law, Dave (see "The Incredibles", 11/14)
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