Culmination: The 75x75 Party

        It was a wonderful party. It couldn't have been better. Between 30 and 35 people came with their  "75" tribute—75 blessings to hand out; 75 cards for people to write something about me on, which were then given to me in a nice box; 75 spoonsful of sugar in the fudge contribution to the potluck; 75 bachelor buttons (flowers); a 75-words poem about me; 75 meatballs; and a home-made puzzle of 75 pieces with "Happy birthday, Diana" on it, which people put together at the party. I recited the 75-line poem "Frost at Midnight," with only a few stumbles (although I had done it perfectly many times before). I wore the crown of 75 dried flowers and the necklace of 75 beads I had made a few days before, finishing the last of the 75 items. The pot-luck dinner was great—people walked by with plates piled high—and my cakes were beautiful, the linzertorte cake the hands-down favorite, so exotic looking, with its beautiful raspberry-jam top and filbert-encrusted sides, all decorated with white cream-cheese stars.

Most important of all, of course, was the display of the 75s. Not everything lent itself to display (take 75 naps, eat 75 blueberries for breakfast, jump rope 75 times for 75 days), but I set out the craft items—a small knitted table pad, based on 5 purls, 5 knits 15 times in a row (and, yes, someone counted); the table runner of 75 quilt squares; a trivet made of 75 wine corks with a quote wood-burned around the base: "What though youth/Gave us love and roses/Age still leaves us/Friends and wine" (Thomas Moore, 1779-1852); the 75-piece collage; a small, framed embroidery of 75 stitches; the 75 cards I made; and the 75 pieces of wood-burned driftwood, each with a different word on it, lined up along the edges of the table. 

There was a basket of 75 origami pieces and the 75-word WordArt.com piece I had made. And there were all the books I had made: 75 favorite photographs, 75 favorite hikes (each on a page, with a photo), 75 pressed flowers, 75 drawings of different botanical species on my land, 75 people who had accomplished significant things over the age of 75, 75 poems about aging, 75 pictures of me hugging a tree, 75 poems I had written of 75 words each; and a folder of lists people had challenged me to make. I set out the jar of donations (in 75s) for the Applegater, which got a few more contributions that evening. Above the table, on the house wall, I taped the list of 75 things of 75 repetitions each I had done over the past year, each identified with the name of the person who had suggested that item. Next to the display table was another small table with the 75 items I had chosen for the altar (one of the 75 suggestions on the 75x75 list).

        All evening people drew from my basket of flash cards for learning 75 languages and asked me to say, "Hello. What's your name? Good-bye" in that language. (I knew them all. The only time I got two mixed up I corrected myself immediately.) People also kept coming up to me to say, "I love the book of tree-hugging," or "Your poems about Mike are heart-renderingly sweet." All the books I set out were read—I know because each one was at one time or another proclaimed a favorite by someone or other. People even complimented my drawings of plants on the land, calling them "zen in their simplicity." They marveled at all I had accomplished this past year and asked me how I had done it. "A little at a time," I said. The best answer would have been to show them my Excel spread sheet, but I didn't know how to print it and don't know how to upload it here, either, to my chagrin. 

        My guests represented various aspects of my life: the Applegater board, skiing friends, hiking friends, long-time friends from the Applegate, teaching at Rogue Community College. They came from as far away as Ashland, Medford, and Grants Pass. They were people I have known for more than forty years and one woman I had met only the weekend before—all wonderful friends, who participated in the party (and many of them in the 75x75 project by suggesting items) with enthusiasm and delight. Everyone loved my house and its surroundings —the mountain, the woods, the garden. The weather was perfect. As people left, each had a card from the 75 I had made, an origami ornament, and a driftwood word picked from the collection at the edge of the table—and a packet of trail mix, each with 75 pieces of nuts or fruits.

        Mike's participation was inestimably valuable. In addition to helping me set up for the party and keeping guests supplied with drinks during it, what I appreciated most was the "75s" item he gave me for my birthday: "75 Things I Love about Diana." I was so touched by the things he said! But maybe the best part was that when I said, before I had finished reading the list, "Oh, Mike, 75 is a big number," knowing full well what it took to come up with a list of 75 things, he said, "It wasn't even hard."

      We cleaned up that night, since we couldn't leave anything out that the bear might get into. It wasn't late when we finished, but we were exhausted. I crawled into bed with a deliriously happy-tired feeling, my head was swimming with 7500 words of praise, appreciation, and love from so many of my friends.