Aunt Grace with her daughters, my cousins Maureen and Sharon, both glamorous, charismatic women whom I idolized in childhood when I was the chubby, awkward, younger cousin. In our family, we call these two The Generals, because they don't know how to not run the show—and they always do it brilliantly.
The party was under a tent set up on Maureen's front lawn.
Aunt Grace's granddaughter, Arianne, oohed at Aunt Mavis's stylish heels. Aunt Mavis, who is also 90 years old, is a close family friend and was the doctor who delivered me into this world. At my mom's 93rd birthday in January of last year, she told me the story of how my mom saved her marriage. She and her husband had argued, and she left him and came to my mother's house, vowing never to go back. She said my mother said to her, "Mavis, you are not welcome here. You need to go home and talk to your husband." She has always been grateful for that night, she told me.
All these friends of Aunt Grace have passed the 90-year mark. They still play bridge together.
Aunt Grace's grandchildren, Arrianne and Matthew, were teaching their beloved Gaga the basics of taking selfies.
The table centerpieces were beautiful orchids.
Aunt Grace at 90 years young. I love her so.