Never really worried about my age. For a 53-year-old broad, I’m doing OK. Just the fact that I know that “broad” is slang for “woman” dates me, as it signals a certain familiarity with the Rat Pack. Don’t know why I’ve jumped in the Wayback machine, Mr. Peabody (that tagline courtesy of the Rocky and Bullwinkle show on Saturday mornings).
But, here I sit, typing this e-mail on a laptop, with computing power that would have necessitated a machine the size of a house at the time of my birth. OK, half a house… but still.
In that far off April of 1960, John F. Kennedy was on the campaign trail, had just whipped Hubert Humphrey of Minnesota in the first major primary, and Nixon was running unopposed for the Republican ticket. The Berlin Wall was still standing, and Ronald Reagan, who would eventually be associated with the destruction of the Wall, and served as the leader of the Screen Actors Guild in 1960, helped end that union’s strike against the major movie studios. Ironically, decades later, there was an air traffic controllers’ strike during his presidency, and he would break the strike by firing more than 11,000 controllers.
That is just one of many observable ironies as I watch the years speed up from a stroll to a dead run. For instance, as the tiny little forest of hairs on my chinny-chin-chin expands, it has become utterly invisible, as my eyesight has worsened at exactly the same pace. Even more ironic is that they are coming in white, which makes them even harder to see… so I have to pluck by feel, so to speak.
Unfortunately, while I may not be able to see them, everyone else can.
And speaking of seeing, I recently graduated from 2.0 to 2.5 magnification reading glasses, the ones you can buy at Wal-Mart for $7 for three pairs. It’s a good thing they’re cheap, because much like the classic joke, I need glasses to find my glasses these days, and yes, I have found them on top of my head, or more likely, hanging from the collar of my shirt, after searching for a pair all over the house. I even bought three packages of them, and you would think that I could find at least one pair of the nine. You would be wrong.
The obvious observation to draw out of the mix is that aging, while annoying, is certainly far better than the alternative (dying). For the first time in my life, though, if by some off chance I step in front of a bus, I will have died happy. Makes me kind of careful about stepping into the road, that thought. Wouldn’t mind another 50 years or so if they’re as good as these years.
Summer is rushing toward us, even if it’s only a high of 50 degrees in Oregon. We had hoped that both kids could come in this summer, but it’s looking more like February/March of next year now… Happily, though, I’ve already got my plane tickets purchased for a week-long trip to Montana in June, and am so looking forward to sitting on a mountaintop discussing life, the universe and everything with other women. All the husbands drive the women’s campers up to the campsite, and are summarily dismissed. Then we talk about them for the next three days. 🙂
Also have plane tickets purchased for another trip in July. I’ve been summoned to attend an onsite meeting for all the managers at my level in our department, as well as our boss, in Atlanta, GA. I can’t say I’m looking forward to Atlanta at the height of summer… but, Corey and I are going to fly out about a week prior and explore Tennessee, and I’m SO looking forward to that. There is so much land going for some amazing prices in the western foothills of the Appalachians, and no state income tax in Tennessee. Who knows what we’ll find!
No, seriously, who knows what we’ll find, ’cause I’d like to talk to them if their crystal ball is working. Mine’s broke, all I get is static.