On Saturday, we had the remarkable opportunity to celebrate my mom’s 90th birthday.
The party was held at the Kinton Grange, and it was truly special—filled with friends, family, laughter, and deep gratitude. My nieces, Megan and Janelle, went to extraordinary lengths to make the space look beautiful and festive, and everyone left well fed, well hugged, and deeply moved.
For my mom, it was a joyful (and slightly overwhelming) experience to be at the center of so much love. But for all of us—it was a chance to say what we so often feel, but don’t always express: how much she means to us.
How deeply we admire her.
And how much she has given—quietly, steadily, and with unwavering strength.
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🎤 My Speech:
Welcome Remarks: A Tribute to Diane Kaufer
Hi Everyone,
For those who don’t know me, I’m David Kaufer—Diane’s third (and definitely funniest) child. I’m one of four children Mom raised, and today is a celebration of her: 90 years of a life well-lived.
It also happens to fall on what would’ve been her son—and our brother—George’s 66th birthday. I know his spirit is with us today, especially in the hearts of his incredible daughters, my nieces Megan and Janelle. He’s here in the laughter, in the joy, in the deep roots of this family that continue to grow.
Thank you for being here, and helping us carry both the joy and the memory—with love.
You’ll hear from others today who’ve been most touched by her life: my brother, my sister (not nearly as funny), Megan, Janelle, and perhaps others who want to share.
This is about celebrating a remarkable woman.
After the remarks, we’ll cap things off with a photo and video montage from Mom’s life—followed, of course, by dessert.
And with that, I’ll begin.
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The Heart of 90 Years
Diane Kaufer—my mom—turned 90 this past week.
In a world where everything moves fast and attention spans barely stretch beyond a few seconds, 90 years isn’t just a milestone. It’s a miracle.
Mom recently shared something on Facebook about her generation—those born between 1930 and 1946. It said:
“You are part of an incredibly rare group. Just 1% of your generation is still alive today.”
Mom has always been part of the top 1%—not just in age, but in love.
There’s no one I’ve ever known who gives more unconditional love—to family, to friends, to everyone.
And that love? It’s not just generous. It’s generational. It flows into her children and grandchildren. It roots itself in all of us.
But it’s not just the love that stands out—it’s what shaped her.
She was born during the Great Depression. Raised in wartime. She learned to reuse everything, waste nothing. She listened to the radio, played outside, shared dinner before screens took over the home.
She was raised by her grandparents, not her birth parents—because they were already overwhelmed. Her grandfather was bedridden with Parkinson’s. Her grandmother, by all accounts, was an angel.
And she endured the unthinkable: the loss of her twin sister at age 3.
That’s a level of grief and survivor’s guilt most of us will never understand.
But she persevered. She grew. She dreamed. And her dream was simple:
To be a mom.
I remember a report I did in first grade. I had to interview my mom. When I asked what she dreamed of doing, she said:
“My dreams have already come true. I wanted to be a mom—and that’s what I am.”
I believed it then.
And I still believe it now.
Even as the world changed around her, she remained steady.
She loved deeply.
Gave freely.
And showed up—especially when it was hard.
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When It Was Hard
I don’t think anything has been harder than losing her son—our brother—George, just over 10 years ago.
Mom, one of the things I admire most is that even through heartbreak, you never disappeared.
You stayed connected.
You loved deeper.
You gave more.
And now—on what would have been George’s 66th birthday—you’re surrounded by the family you’ve held together through it all.
That’s not just resilience. That’s grace made visible.
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The Last Five Years
In the last five years alone, she has:
• Survived three bouts of pneumonia and COVID
• Watched three grandsons—Gabriel, Nicholas, and Ty—graduate high school
• Been a powerful support in Stone’s journey
For those who don’t know, our son Stone is autistic and mostly non-speaking.
But in 2022, we discovered a methodology that helped him unlock his voice.
And no one outside our immediate family was more excited than Mom.
She followed every update. She cheered him on.
In 2023, we went on an unforgettable spring break trip—just me, Mom, Stone, and Ty.
We saw the redwoods, Yosemite, Mount Shasta, the Bay Area, Eugene.
She reconnected with old friends.
And Stone later told her it was his favorite memory with her.
Here’s what he wrote:
“My most great memory with you is when we spent spring break in California together. No I couldn’t communicate yet but you still talked to and cared about me. Yes in this way I felt like someone other than my parents loved me for who I was. Yes i needed greatly that extra support because i doubted if anyone would. You showed me it was possible and I deserved it. Happy birthday Grandma.”
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To Close
Mom has brought warmth, grace, and strength into every season of her life.
She’s held us up—not with loud declarations, but with quiet devotion.
Today isn’t just about how long she’s lived.
It’s about how fully she’s loved.
So on behalf of all of us—
Thank you, Mom.
For your care.
Your humor.
Your patience.
Your strength.
And the legacy of love you’ve given us all.
You are rare.
You are radiant.
And you are so very loved.
Happy 90th, Mom.
We’re grateful we get to walk this life with you.
