Well, I hear you're 100 years old this year. Happy birthday. I wasn't around when you first saw the light of day, but I sure have enjoyed you for the past 40 years.

The first time I remember seeing you was when I was a little girl. I was six years old and was recovering from having my tonsils out. You were almost as comforting as ice cream.

Through the years I appreciated you whether you were present at my house, someone else's house or at a church dinner. You've come to lunch often.

When I was a sophomore in high school we had a marvelous spring tea for our mothers. I remember taking an armful of white plum blossoms to decorate the tables. You were there in a new costume, dressed in green. I loved you, you were delightful.

One day after I was married my Aunt Sylvia invited my family to have dinner with them. The meal was delicious and even better because you made an appearance. You were different, you came to dinner in red, with a touch of white that time.

You were with me when my kids were little and got sick. A friend told me you could aid, so I called on you and you indeed were a big help. Whenever my girls got sick you came to call. I still see you every morning.

My grandson Billy doesn't seem to appreciate you as much as the rest of us, but his son, Ronnie loves to see you. When we go out to eat you're with us or if he comes to our house you're here.

I remember hearing a song about you on the radio. Whether you came to the table plain, or with pineapple and whipped cream, or whether I drank two teaspoons of you in hot water each morning I'm glad you're with us. What would I do without you?

Happy birthday, J-E-L-L-O!