ADJUSTING THE REARVIEW MIRROR

Recently, when I stumbled upon my Kindergarten report card from 80 years ago, I remembered how much I had been looking forward  to first grade. That must have been the case because my Kindergarten teacher wrote, “Esther is a bad rester!”

After that, I was always in a hurry for the next years to come.  I was never just 6-years-old.  I was 6 (and-a-half) 7 (and-a-half) or 8 (and-a-half).  Then at 14, I looked forward to 15 and that magical path to freedom called a Driver’s License.  A few years later, my 21st birthday offered legal voting and drinking booze (not necessarily in that order.)

I celebrated my 21st birthday as a student at the University of Michigan. A restaurant called “The Pretzel Bell” offered a free pitcher of beer for the auspicious occasion. Not especially liking beer or being much of a drinker was no excuse not to gather a group of friends, stand up on a table, and chug-a-lug a mug or two.

The problem was that I had a date that night, with a very nice fellow, who had blown a wad of cash on tickets for the opera, “Aida.” He offered to call a cab because of the inclement weather,  but I said, “Oh, No!  Let’s walk.” I sobered up enough to sleep through the opera with my eyes open.

At 22, I was married to a different fellow named Warren, who had been devoutly opposed to blind dates, but his Aunt had said to him, “All you have to do is take the girl out. You don’t have to marry her.” He married me out of spite!  Several birthdays just slipped by as I worked to help my husband pay for graduate school, and then move from place to place as his career flourished. Suddenly, my 31st year arrived, along with motherhood. Then my years were measured by our dear son, Josh’s accomplishments. And, of course, the years slipped by all too quickly.

However, during this time I had managed to establish myself as a free-lance journalist with steady work, including two full time humor columns. My 50th birthday marked the publication of OH LORD I SOUND JUST LIKE MAMA written with my friend, Lynne Alpern.  It made several best seller lists and sold a quarter of a million copies. Our second book came out the same year (that is another story). When our 7th book was published I was 57 years old.

Then, I retired at 58 (and-a-half) and we moved to Tucson, AZ. However, life took a cruel turn when my husband died two months after my 62nd birthday. For a year, my creativity lay dormant until a woman suggested, “Why don’t you write a book on widowhood?  You do it so well.” That snapped me out of my Zombie state. All those years ago at Michigan, Professor Rowe had advised me to continue playwriting. It was time to take his advice.

At 67, my first play, HERE AND THERE had a two month run on the 45th anniversary of the celebrated Detroit Repertory Theatre. At that time, I said to Josh, “I think that’s it.”  He replied, “No, Mom. You have another play in you.” So, when I was 72, my second play, UNDER MIDWESTERN STARS appeared at the Kansas City  Repertory Theatre featuring a Broadway cast, and a Director, and an Emmy Award winning set designer—both from Los Angeles.
When a journalist from the Kansas City Star asked me, “How could you have written a play at your age?” I said, “I’m not too old to dream.”

When I was 76 my third play, FATHER’S ASHES” won two awards and had a staged reading at the Scottsdale Center for the Performing Arts in Phoenix, Arizona.When I was  82-years-old, a staged reading of UNDER MIDWESTERN STARS was finally held in my hometown.

Now, I am no longer 84 (and-a-half ) because on May 3rd, I will celebrate my 85th birthday. Some people live a life with their glass half full. Others live a life with their glass half empty.  Frankly, I am happy just to have a glass—while appreciating every precious moment— of every passing day.

Esther Blumenfeld