At a lunch filled with stories and hilarity on Monday at The Swan, a pub on the Thames River, in the pouring rain, which is good luck, my sister turned 80 years old. While my sister can barely believe she has reached this grand elder age, I can also hardly believe that I have a sibling that age. The last 80th birthday party we both attended was our mother's, in 2001.
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| With our eldest daughters after the lunch. |
It is quite an achievement, to get to 80. Such a big long life. Elder women should be revered, as they still are in a few cultures, but not in ours. They have done amazing things, danced and loved, digested the earth of their origins, been sexual creatures, dealt with menstruation every month, grown human beings miraculously in their own bodies, birthed and nurtured them, had a career, cooked amazing food every day, gone on adventures, mended clothes, injured creatures and broken hearts, read tons of books, wept copious tears often, gone through the rack of menopause, come out stronger and changed, saying "Fuck" more often with more intent, survived betrayals, losses, the lack of money, support, built long friendships, built strong personalities, learned from their mothers and grandmothers, discerned their histories, surveyed their gardens, mountains, the ocean, humanity, with disappointment, with elation, with horror, with love, with power.
We are bloody amazing, us elder women. Respect us, we deserve it.
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| The Venus of Laussel, a 24,000-year-old sculpture found in France. |
At my father's 80th birthday celebration my siblings and I made speeches. Mine was a poem, as it was for my mother two years later. In his thank you speech my dad was so happy, saying, "You just said all these amazing things about me, and I'm not even dead yet!" In my sister's speech she mentioned this and said, "Say all the good things to one another now, don't wait until the funeral!"
I wrote a poem for my sister too, but didn't get to say it in a speech, so here it is:
For my sister on her 80th birthday.
Although she was born in the middle of the war,
It was sunny South Africa that made up her core.
Far from the fighting and struggle for power,
The little blonde girl brought joy hour after hour
To her parents, their friends, her granny and her pop,
The only child, the princess, she thought it would never stop.
But at six she was rudely awakened from this dream,
A new baby brother, she was the cat with no cream.
And even though she begged for him to be taken back,
When they wouldn’t she decided on her own little hack,
Taking a knitting needle from her mother’s handwork bag,
She gave that little interloper a warning stab!
And as she grew, long-legged and tall,
Brenda was always the belle of the ball.
Boys were proverbial moths to her flame
And everyone wanted to make her tame.
But she was her own person, fierce and wild,
And no one was able to make her mild.
As a child Brenda would faint at the sight of blood,
But became a nurse to staunch all that flood.
Many qualifications later, a paediatric sister
Whom everyone called on, instead of a mister.
For calmness and authority, there was no one better,
She thinks outside the box, doesn’t follow the letter.
In quick succession, a family of four,
A beautiful girl, then three handsome boys she bore.
She worked long and hard in order to raise them,
Wonderful children, branches from her stem
of the family tree, of which I’m a part,
Her little sister, also a part of her heart.
I can’t quite believe I’ve a sister who’s now an elder
We’ve lived far apart so our togethers have been seldom
But I’ve looked up to her the whole of my life,
We’ve even come under the same kind of knife.
Two white-haired old ladies, we’re wise and we’re strong,
We love and stand up for each other, we’ve always got along.
So, beautiful sister, I wish you the best
A new era of life, one filled with zest
As you get to explore the world from your new place,
With your curious mind which always runs on apace.
May you be comfortable, warm, happy and light,
With the mountain behind you, and the ocean bright
