1987: I turn 30


1987: My sisters and brother send me a box of death-themed, life-is-over-at-30 gifts–a mug and a towel, plates and napkins… Cal and I go to San Francisco. We eat breakfast at Sears. I have a piece of sausage left, which he wraps in toast and then in a napkin. I make fun of him. Hours later, on a harbor cruise, it’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted. We walk across the Golden Gate Bridge, miss the turn to Sausalito, and end up on the highway. A policeman stops to help us. I will think of this moment every time I cross the GGB–which will turn out to be often. I’m pregnant most of the year. In June we move down the street into a bigger house. We do Lamaze. When we go to the hospital, I’m not even far enough along to be admitted. We walk the halls. I have to stop with each contraction. Natural childbirth seems unlikely. It is. As soon as they offer an epidural, I accept. Bobby is born at 4:05 am on September 19th. I like being in the hospital–it makes me feel special. A month later, the stock market falls 508 points. Each night, as I nurse Bobby, I get the jump on the Nikkei Average. When I go back to work, after a three-month leave, Cal and I alternate night duty. On the car radio, Bruce Hornsby sings The Way It Is.

30 days to 60


Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
Mary Oliver

2 thoughts on “1987: I turn 30

  1. A sentence I never thought I’d read (AND a 14-word lesson on how NOT to be boring): “Each night, as I nurse Bobby, I get the jump on the Nikkei Average.” Ha!

    Also I learned from this post that Cal is my hero (saving the sausage and toast) and you are every bit as smart as I always knew (epidural). I have no memory of the stock market falling but that Hornsby song might as well have been the theme song of my senior year in high school and almost makes me burst into tears of nostalgia whenever I hear it. Plus Bruce Hornsby lived in Williamsburg when I was going to William & Mary, and I used to see him around town, so he has a special place in my heart.

    30 is the first perfectly round, beautiful age. Happy sigh.

    Liked by 1 person

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