Happy birthday grandma Esther.
I turn 63 today.
Someone Facebooked a birthday greeting to me this morning warning me to watch out. The earth seems to spin faster each year we grow older, he said.
This does not worry me.
When I was twenty, I had no thoughts of being sixty. By twenty-five, I was convinced that neither Bob Dylan, Mick Jagger, Abbie Hoffman or I would be around this long. Of the four of us, only Abbie didn’t make it.
Neither did some others I loved or admired. It’s a list too long to include here.
I was born on Flag Day, on the same day as the guy who discovered Alzheimer’s and on my Grandma Esther’s birthday.
Esther Wainer lived until she was 92.
I should only do as well.
And by that I don’t just mean old age.
Esther was smart, independent thinking and whatever the Yiddish word for bad ass is.
She left her home in Russia because her father did
