92

It's my mom's birthday today. She's 92, and going strong. People always ask me, so how old was she when she had you? Old, my mom would have answered. She liked to tell me that having a child after 40 is more risky (genetically speaking) than having a child with your first cousin. And she'd add that that's why my uncle is autistic -- most likely. Then she'd say that you'd never breed an old cow.

My mom loved to compare folks to cows. And what she said is true. Recently the health news has been reporting these facts as if they are new. Old parents, yes even old dads (perhaps esp. in the case of autism, though I'm not sure the verdict is in on that), increase the risks for various issues for kids. It's not a popular fact these days when waiting to have children is the norm. Not something I like to think about much, considering what it might mean in my case, not that I can do much about it. And having a mom whose 92, well, that's genetics too I guess. 92. And that is old. I'm not sure I will go that long, not if I have a choice about it. And I probably do. Maybe I'll take up smoking in my 80s.