“This is the greatest generation any society has ever produced.” – Tom Brokaw

“To whom much is given, from him (or her) much is expected.” – Luke 12:48

Every day is a gift.

For my mother Marjorie, April 4, 2019 is day #36,500 … to be exact.

Please feel free to double-check the math: 365 days x 100 years = 36,500.

Even though a critical mass of our extended family celebrated her birthday during spring break (March 23), today marks 100 years since my mom came into the world.

For Almost DailyBrett it’s extremely difficult – if not impossible – to make a third-person singular assessment of the woman who provided the ultimate first-person singular experience: My own birth.

Therefore your author has to acknowledge right here and now: The following epistle is woefully biased, and there is no remedy in sight.

Let’s get to the point: Marjorie M. Brett is without doubt, a superb representative of the “Greatest Generation.”

Her father, Randolph Myers, lived to his 100th birthday and beyond. He was as sharp as a tack at the community celebration of his century birthday in 1989. Ditto for Mumsy. Longevity runs on the Myers side of the family … and follicly challenged dudes too.

She may have slowed a tad here and there, but that didn’t stop California DMV from renewing her driver’s license for another five years.

And what a century it has been. We are now blessed to join her as she embarks on her second 100 years.

An Amazing Century For The Ultimate Go-Getter

Que será, será; Whatever will be, will be; The future’s not ours to see; Que será, será; What will be, will be.”

Sorry Doris Day: Que será, será is NOT my mother’s motto … not even close.

Similar to her father, Marjorie Myers Brett, is a supreme doer and an impressive achiever.

As Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher reportedly said: “Life must have purpose.” My mother’s life has purpose in spades.

It’s simply amazing to ponder what she witnessed, endured and celebrated during her incredible tenure on the earth from 1919 to 2019 … and counting.

Growing up as the daughter of a Western Pennsylvania lawyer, my mother witnessed the Great Depression, World War II, gave birth and raised three Baby Boomers; marveled as man walked on the moon, and now watches her AI vacuum cleaner “Rob” beautify her floors with more technology horsepower than NASA possessed when Neil Armstrong descended to the lunar landscape.

Without doubt, she did not approve of everything that transpired during the past century … she cared too much. Her laser-like focus does not permit nuances. She assesses white from black, good from bad, useful from irrelevant. She calls ’em as she sees ’em. She leaves diplomacy to others.

Her over-achieving worldly father did not have patience for those who wasted time. There was no teenage wasteland with “Pappy.”

The same is true with mother, one of the few liberated women of her time who earned a college degree, who taught classical piano to musicians, and who spoke confident French in the cafes on the Île Saint-Louis. There is no reverse gear with my mom’s transmission, let alone neutral. It’s petal to the metal, all the way.

One can argue that much was given to my mother, but at the same time much more was expected. She responded with an overachieving life, confronting and surmounting every challenge thrown her way to our fast-changing increasingly complex digital world.

Today’s widespread male parasite plague of doing nada, exhibiting zero pride and leaving it to women to take care of them, was not even remotely fathomable for any son of Marjorie M. Brett.

Even though the punitive word “privilege” raises the blood-pressure of your author, my mother provided me with winning biological lottery advantages (much is given), but she also was strict, demanding … yet understanding (much is expected).

It was sink or swim.

Your author would not be the person he is today without the caring, guidance, encouragement and love provided by my mother.

Mumsy will never admit to this statement, but it’s nonetheless true: The world is a better place because of the century-long contributions … both large and small … of one Marjorie M. Brett.

I am not worthy, but eternally thankful.

Love you, mom. Always have. Always will.