Speaking of old

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I was reminded, just last weekend, what my birthday would bring to me. That is, thirty years! Time marches on. I can remember my mother's thirtieth birthday. I was young - perhaps, five or six. The party was thrown by Aunt Berda at her house in the poor section of the West Side. We arrived early, and shouted when my mom walked in the door. Surprise!

These bottles also reminded me of my age. To think, one of my first bottles of wine - a brew of Elder and Lemon Balm - has returned to me.



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