On January 3, 1947, Chicago was buried by a blizzard. My grandmother had a difficult labor - not just in getting to the hospital. My mother was caught on her tailbone and not coming out. She finally had a c-section. Granny's cousin Mary heard the story and rushed with whatever streetcars were operating to the hospital to see them. Everyone wound up healthy. Yay! In late 1980, my mom developed breast cancer. I was four years old. She was rushed into surgery and has fortunately remained cancer free. I think about this a lot. My life would have been so different (i.e. - awful) if the outcome had been different. Throughout the years, she has been one of the people I've laughed with most frequently, whether at some intellectual joke or over something as low-brow as boogers or as inappropriate as renaming people we dislike Cunty McCunterson. She's been my biggest supporter in whatever I do. Even though I get cranky and yell all the time, she's strangely tolerant of my inappropriate outbursts. My mom is great.

I hope that she has a delightful 64th birthday and an excellent year full of laughter, love, and health. She deserves it.

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