Yes, now I am 80. It was a difficult journey. When I went to sleep on November 25, I was still 79, and assumed I would simply wake up and be 80. I had overcome most of my negative thinking of what being that age portended, and was ready to accept it. But sometimes your outer placidity simply seems to disguise some inner turmoil that you didn’t know you had.

I woke up at about 3 a.m. That, in itself, is not that unusual and typically I would be back asleep within a few minutes. But this time, being up really meant being up. And I began to think. Not about my age or birthday, but about the busy week I had ahead of me. I have my usual activities, plus a couple of lunch dates, plus – and this is the big one – I am to deliver the Dvar Torah (sermon) at the Adas Israel Havurah service next Saturday. And I spent two hours working, with my eyes closed, on the Dvar Torah, getting absolutely nowhere. And then I fell asleep again.

So, you say, no big deal. Up for a couple of hours. It happens. No worry. But then, after I went back to sleep, I had “the dream”. And this is where my birthday anxiety must have gotten the better of me. My house was filled with people I didn’t know. I was sitting in one room on my computer trying to get things done, when six men in suits and ties walked into the room and started an animated conversation which I couldn’t follow, but couldn’t ignore. Then downstairs, Edie was with twenty or so people; I don’t know what they were doing, and didn’t know who they were or why they were there. I looked at my watch and saw it was 2 p.m. in the afternoon, and I knew we were having the family over for brunch at 11 a.m., but clearly they didn’t come. Where were they? I asked Edie, who told me that the brunch was cancelled, as was our planned dinner out, but that we were going to my daughter’s house at about 4 to have a drink. I became very agitated and angry.

And then I woke up.

The actual birthday celebration was fine and went on as scheduled. Our two daughters and their families came at 11, just as they were supposed to. Although there was some sniffling and one hoarse voice (hence a few masks), everyone was in good spirits. And our old friends Mike Bobroff and Wendy Olk, who are visiting from St. Louis, were there. Edie made pancakes – normal pancakes and, at my birthday request, matzoh meal pancakes (which I like year round) which I eat with cottage cheese and maple syrup. Could not have been better (although I was still a bit foggy from my night time activities).

Last night, Michael, Wendy, Edie and I went to Estadio, a Spanishy restaurant downtown, and one of our favorites, for an excellent dinner. And to set off my 81st year in good stead, in the crowded Estadio neighborhood (it’s at 14th and Church Streets NW, for those who know DC), where parking is always at a premium, I found on on-street space two cars from the restaurant’s front door. As my kashrut keeping is limited to my house, I was able to enjoy a bowl of mussels, as well as a roasted beet salad and patatas bravas.

We watched a Netflix film when we got home. Titled “The Forgotten Battle”, it’s a Dutch film that premiered about a year ago. It has a fictionalized plot, but is based on the World War II Battle of the Scheldt, and apparently is historically quite accurate. This battle, not spoken about much here in the U.S. of A., was between German and Canadian troops. About 10,000 soldiers and civilians were killed, but the Canadian victory permitted Allied ships to land on Dutch soil, leading to the expulsion of the Nazis from the Netherlands. It’s a brutal film, but with an interesting plot and good acting. Rotten Tomatoes and I both give it 100%.

So the birthday was good, and all turned out well in this best of all possible worlds.

(Sorry for any typos)