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After a while, everyone went downstairs for the big performance, which turned out to be a Burning Man–esque show, replete with drumming, “the stroking of auras,” and spoken word. Throughout the production, Bucko accepted the artsy accolades with laughter and smiles from her “throne.” The celebration segued into the slide show, during which Bucko grew quiet and misty as she watched images of her extensive life.

When it was time to sing “Happy Birthday,” I sat at the piano and froze after the first two notes. As the voices trailed off in confusion, I begged for a do-over and tried again. No one seemed to mind or notice when I flubbed a chord; their singing drowned out the music. When the song was finished and I turned around, I could see in each admiring gaze that everyone, including me, wanted to be like Bucko.

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Comments

bohemianopus Nov. 24, 2010 @ 4:59 p.m.

This is wonderful. I think we all meet someone like Bucko at least once in our lives. And when we do, our lives become richer.

My Calabrese grandmother lived to be 94. My father is 93. They both had a tremendous influence on how I conduct my life. They both lived life to the fullest.

Treasure your time with this splendid woman.

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David Dodd Nov. 24, 2010 @ 7:08 p.m.

You are one of the neatest persons I've ever had the pleasure of meeting on the internet. Love your comments, and love your attitude. I will go out on a "limb" and suggest that the fruit did not fall far from the tree where you are concerned. More of you, ma'am, and this world gets to become a better place to live. Hope your dad lives to see 100. You, as well :)

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David Dodd Nov. 25, 2010 @ 12:11 p.m.

It is honest and heartfelt, I like her very much and enjoy her writing.

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bohemianopus Nov. 28, 2010 @ 4:27 p.m.

Why, thank you Mr. Refried. I enjoy your writing as well!

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