Remembering your age

Published 12:00 am Friday, January 23, 2004

From the Heart with Ronny Keller Michel

Not only do I live in St. John Parish, but it is the same community in which I was raised. The older I get, the more I appreciate that fact. I’m also appreciative to the people around me who remind me of my age. Lately. I have needed reminding. On December 21, I told friends that it was my husband’s 45th birthday. On the way to lunch, within earshot of my five children, I asked Michael if he was enjoying his 45th birthday. He calmly replied, “Last year, I did enjoy my 45th birthday, but today I am 46.”

“Impossible.” I shot back. “I’m 43. How could you be 46?”

“Ronny,” he said slowly, “You’re 44. You were born in ’59. Do the math.”

The vehicle suddenly grew silent as the children leaned forward. Con-cerned about my sanity, they strained to hear how I would respond to this news. Or maybe they were just questioning my ability to do the math.

“You’re right,” I agreed, in shock. “I just don’t understand how this happened. How did I forget my age? Michael, it’s all your fault. You must not have made my 44th birthday special or else I would have remembered it.” He muttered something about sending me to law school and I tried to burn my new age into my mind.

I may have forgotten my last birthday, but I’m sure that Kenny Bourg won’t forget his. Last Saturday, his family and friends surprised him with a 40th birthday party. I looked forward to attending this celebration and I wasn’t disappointed. It was great to talk to his parents, Mr. L.P. and Mrs. Julia, who are family member that I have known all of my life. I even met a few new people. I sampled Mrs. Clo-uatre’s candy turtles and decided that they are the best that I have ever eaten. Kenny’s mother-in-law makes these special treats that even look like turtles, complete with little eyes. My cousin, Sean Duhon, and his wife, Judy, were also there and I had a conversation with Sean that was probably longer that all of our previous conversations combined. As we were about to leave, I spotted Mrs. ReneĆ© Catoire. Talking to her brought back so many memories of my Nanny, who died two years ago.

All of this happened in a building next to St. Peter’s School, the elementary school that I attended many years ago. Leaving the party, we drove thr-ough the streets that were my whole world during childhood and put me in my ‘I want to move back to Reserve’ mood. Maybe Michael will buy me a house in Reserve for my 45th birthday, whenever that is!