The Meaning of 16

Well, it's that wonderful time of year. You know what I'm talking about. The SJG is advancing even more rapidly in age. Why, just last January, I turned 60, and now I'm turning 61 on the 16th. Last year, I threw myself a surprise party. You should've seen the look on my face.

 It was nothing like this.

This year, in honor of myself, I called up my Inconsistently Great Aunt Yetta, formerly of Kiev, currently of Bim Bam Beverly Hills, in search of meaning. After all, she's a self-proclaimed Yiddish Numerology Maven. Our conversation went more-or-less like this:
"Hey, Auntie Yetta."
"Hey, yourself. Who's this?"
"It's your favorite great niece."
"Oh, hi, Kitzela, how's ba you, my sweet babushka?"
"Kitzela's the tall one. I'm Chana, the short one."
"With the tush?"
"Hurtful, but yes."
"Make it fast. I'm winning at Chutzpah."

"My birthday's next week."
"I have no money to send you."
"Auntie Yetta, that's not why I'm calling."
"Good. Then why?"
"You know so much about numbers."
"True. I can still add and subtract, which is more than I can say for the other Bim Bammers in this senior shtetl."
"I was born on the 16th."
"Gevalt."
"Uh oh. Does the number 16 mean something bad?"
"What it means, you don't want to know."
"I'm a big girl. Just tell me."
"People born on the 16th are full of anxiety."
"Tell me something I don't know, Auntie Yetta."
"People born on the 16th think too much."
"Wow. You've got me pegged."
"People born on the 16th are carried by wind and leaves."
"What the @#$% does that mean?"
"How should I know? I didn't write this fakakta numerology book."