My friend, Walt, turned 90 this week. I was blessed to attend his birthday party Monday evening. His daughter and son-in-law flew in from Seattle a few days before and created a most memorable, simple, yet spectacular event for this man who is clearly loved by many. I was flattered she called me weeks before and invited me as well as very excited to meet some of Walt’s friends, who I have heard so much about in our chats. Walt hangs out with interesting, engaging people. That’s why he’s 90 years young. He’s also one of the most curious seekers I have ever had the privilege to meet. I like that in a person.
I’ve never really thought much about living to be 90 since my family genetics portend a shorter life. I’ve watched most of my relatives die young. I recall in my younger days, praying to God to just let me live long enough to see my daughter grow up and be able to attend her graduation from College. Oh, and it would be nice to also provide her with a nice wedding, and see her marry her dream guy, have babies, and enjoy the grand kids for a while too. Icing on the cake would be to travel some, make a living doing something I love, have a little romance in my life, some adventures and be healthy enough to be a blessing to others rather than a burden. So, far, so good.... I am grateful and happy to say, all my prayers have been answered throughout these 58 years. I am really okay with my genetics. If something happens to me, now, at this stage of my life, I’m ready. I’ve lived a fabulous life and I'm immensely grateful for all of it. I don’t want to sound fatalistic or resigned. I don’t feel that way at all. I just think on some level, it was a good thing to always have the gift of the poor genes, tucked away somewhere in the back of my mind. On an unconscious level, I’ve committed to making the most of all of it, and jumping into the ocean of living, eyes wide open, with both feet. There was also this egotistical part of me. I really didn’t want to leave a legacy of being a pain in the ass, dreadfully boring, a sad sack, or a needy old lady with my loved ones. I’ve lived well and accepted my genes are what they are. I really didn’t much care to live to a ripe old age. That may have all changed with Walt’s birthday.
If I can live like Walt...90 years, still inquisitive about life and people, well-rounded and well-loved, then I just might have to start taking better care of myself. His humor is infectious, and he surrounds himself with happy, funny, and smart people from all walks of life. His friends were a diverse group; from his high school classmate (yes, there was a 90 year old buddy there) to his fellow magicians, former employers, his accountant, young coffee clatch veterans from his daily visit to the AmVets, long-time neighbors, his housekeeper and adopted daughter, even an 18 year old.... a budding actor, journalist and photographer that Walt mentored in the art of magic. These were all his very good friends; from 18 to 90, they just kept filing in to tell Walt how much he means to them.
We were asked to not bring gifts to celebrate. I pondered, what then could I give Walt to thank him for the humor, knowledge, friendship and mentoring he has given me in the last few years. I decided I would try my best to share the essence of the man I have come to know, with others. Here is the column I wrote for my friend, Walt for his 90th birthday.
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