A Party 75 Times More Wonderful than I Had Anticipated

        The theme for my 75th birthday party on July 20, the culmination of doing 75 items of 75 repetitions each since July 20 last year, was, of course, "75," and my guests responded with wit and enthusiasm. One guest brought a puzzle she had made: "Happy birthday, Diana," on 75 cardboard squares for guests to work. Someone else brought a bouquet of 75 bachelor buttons, beautiful blue wildflowers. Someone else brought 75 pennies to offer "a penny for your thoughts about Diana," which she had guests write on cards that she left in a pretty box for me. (All the thoughts, by the way, were kind.) Some friends from the Grants Pass Nordic Ski Club brought me a glassed-in box with a blue diamond from the cross-country ski trail – 75 being the diamond anniversary. I got 75 birthday wishes from one friend, each with adjective (all very complimentary, let me add again). At number 43 she said, "75 is beginning to sound like a very big number," and I thought, "Yes. Right. I learned that again and again this year." At the end she said, "All the above is true, by the way."

        One guest brought 75 blessings to hand out. Another brought 75 delicious bing cherries. Another put 75 tablespoons of sugar in the fudge she made to share at the party. There were 75 meatballs, 75 pieces of fruit in the salad, seven different kinds of fruit in another salad, plus one non-fruit item to make 7.5. One friend read a 75-word poem she had written about me; another brought a 75-word rewrite of a favorite song. When I brought out the cakes I had made for our dessert, 

they all sang "Happy Birthday" to me, a tradition I had forgotten would happen, while someone sprinkled over my head 75 pieces of confetti he had cut.

        Such enthusiastic participation made the party fun for everyone, but the other part was my contribution – all the 75x75 items I had done all year. I displayed the displayable items: the eight books I had made, the crafts, and a jar set out for Applegater donations in 75s. I put a list of all the 75x75 items on the wall above the display, with the names of the people who suggested each item.

On the wall on the left is "Power of 75," that my son made for me. The entire list of 75s is under the window.l

        During the evening I carried around a basket of the flash cards I had used as I memorized "Hello. What's your name? Good-bye" in 75 languages and invited guests to pick a card and ask me to say those phrases in that language. I knew them all. Before the dinner, I recited a 75-line poem, "Frost at Midnight," by Samuel Taylor Coleridge, not perfectly (though I had done it perfectly many times to the mirror or while driving) but if I stumbled a couple of times, I recovered. I could also have counted to 75 (100, really) in Hawaiian, but I forgot to tell people to test me on those numbers.

        The whole thing was a great success; people had a wonderful time. It was a great culmination to a great year. I loved doing the 75 things of 75 repetitions each, keeping track on an Excel spread sheet and meeting one challenge after another: 75 yoga poses, 75 hours of volunteer work at a new place, 75 compliments, 75 wines – on and on it went. My year was sharply focused on the 75s. I was, maybe, a bit obsessed. I pulled Mike with me time after time: "Let's go to the redwoods so I can hug a redwood tree"; "Let's go to Wildlife Safari in Roseburg because I need more animals on my list"; "Could you make a base for my wine-cork trivet?" "Will you drill me on the languages?" He accompanied me on many of the 75 hikes, took the 75-mile hike with me, tasted many (maybe all) of the 75 wines with me, worked many of the 75 New York Times crossword puzzles with me, and ate many of the 75 new dishes I cooked this year. He listened patiently to my constant update on how I was doing with the project. He spent the day of the party helping me prepare for it, then helped me clean everything up so the bear would have no incentive to come around that night. 

        Best of all was what he brought me for the "75s" theme: "75 Things I Love about Diana." 

        "75 is a big number," I said, somewhat apologetically, as I read the list, knowing well how hard it is to make a list of that length.

        "It wasn't even hard," he said.