Aftermath of a birthday

Mini carnations from a granddaughter.
She bought the vase in New Mexico.
My grown children like to pokefun at me for my participation on Facebook. I think they believe that I takeany word from any source as gospel. My protests that I check out reliablesites, ignore the crazies, and try to be responsible about what I read and whatI share fall on deaf ears. But the other point they cannot grasp is thefriendships I have made on Facebook. Many many people that I have never andwill never meet in person but whom I consider good friends and with whom Ienjoy frequent exchanges.

That was brought home to mewith this birthday. Colin, my oldest and perhaps the biggest skeptic, asked mehow many birthday wishes I got on Facebook, and I’d say as of today it’s about250. Most of them came on the birthday site that Facebook posts but today othershave come in on a post Jordan put up and a few other ways. A good number ofthose came from members of the Guppies subchapter of Sister in Crime, my fellowsisters and misters in writing mysteries. Guppies are a wonderfully supportivegroup, and I have many acquaintances and a few good friends in the chapter.Then there were wishes from people from various times in my long life, like thechildren of some of my childhood friends, and people I knew when they werechildren, regular readers and commentators on my blog, people who share mysocial and political sympathies, and a couple who don’t but remain friends. It’sreally a remarkably varied group, and to say I am flattered beyond words is anunderstatement. It’s been a lesson inA glorious orchid from a young friend.
gratitude.

I think I mentioned on a Facebookpost recently if not on this page that Colin dug out my lifetime statistics forAmazon book sales. Amazon has sold slightly over 99K books by me, though I mustconfess almost 9/10 of them are one title—Mattie, the first adult novelI wrote and one which won a Spur Award from Western Writers of America. Foryears I sold it on Amazon for ninety-nine cents, which accounts for thetremendous sales numbers. (Today a reprint edition is available from TwoDot, asubsidiary of Rowman & Littlefield publishers, and it’s a bit more thanninety-nine cents.) But that total figure does not count copies sold bypublishers. Regardless, the thought that I have perhaps brought readingpleasure to that many people is a significant accomplishment for me. I havesaid before that it’s my core belief that we must leave the world a bit betterthan we found it, and so perhaps my books have done that. I am surprised anddelighted. Best-selling authors might laugh at my figures, paltry compared totheirs, but for me, a low midlist author, those numbers representaccomplishment.

The two things—birthday greetingsand book sales—may seem unrelated, but in my mind they go together. I have madefriends, and I have given people reading pleasure. To me, that indicates a lifewell lived. I don’t mean that in a smug way at all but in a happy way. We allwant to know that our lives have meant something.

Having taken stock like thatdoesn’t mean that I’m checking out. It’s just that eighty-five does seem, asJordan kept telling me, some sort of milestone birthday and an appropriate timeto take stock. So what I find is a life that has been enriched by so manypeople, so many friends, and moderate success at writing. Who could ask for more?

Flowers for my desk from a neighbor
Sometimes life is glorious andwonderful. Sometimes, though, it is mundane, and so tonight, after all theglorious food and good times of the weekend, I found myself improvising ashepherd’s pie out of the roast beef left over from poor boy sandwiches for acrowd Saturday night. And oh boy, did we have leftovers! Turkey salad, anyone?

To share a bit of my birthdayjoy, I’m posting pictures of the flowers I received.