“Though we shake our heads, admitting on bad days that [life] is all too hard, if some legendary film director were to offer you such a part, you’d think it a role of a lifetime —and it is.” — Mark Nepo
In the third grade, I started being the youngest person in any of my classes throughout school. The school system wouldn’t allow me to start school before the cut off month.
When we moved from New York to Ohio when I was 7, and I went to a two-room school house where each class was called up separately, and throughout the day we heard all the other classes’ lessons, too, my mother decided that I was learning more. Therefore, back in New York a year later, Mother, both loving and fierce for me, insisted that I should skip second grade and go right into third. From this distance, I think she was still angry that I couldn’t start school when she thought I should have since the boy next door had an earlier birth date and and had started earlier than I did. At any rate, the decision was made. I was placed in third grade and forever after I was the youngest in my class, including throughout college from what I can tell.
And who cares? Around high school time, I cared. Who wants to be younger than everyone else? But soon, even then, it became a non-issue. Until, as life moves on, age begins to have importance again. When a group of women friends from high school was planning a trip to celebrate being 50 in 1993, I smugly suggested we wait until January 1994 so I would be 50 also.
The truth is that age mostly didn’t matter to me. I happily celebrated most “milestone” birthdays. At 30, I was married, had finished my graduate degree, and had a perfectly wonderful five-month old baby boy. I remember feeling that I was on track, in the right place for 30. I liked that.
At 40 and 50 my life was not where I had thought it would be at those ages. Those transition times were painful and difficult. Still, by the time of those two birthdays, I clearly remember feeling the stirrings of new beginnings on the way, and felt happy to consider where the transitions would take me. I specifically thought of myself as needing to get ready to meet that new time, that special decade that I was getting ready to mark.
My husband and I were both born in 1944, which sounds as though we’d be the same age. BUT since I was born in January and he was born in September, he has been known to mention the “difference” in our ages, ie, I’m older, funny guy. Again, who cares?Hodid
I will admit that 75 began to sound serious when it was coming up. But then someone from my high school class, who was already 75, had mentioned 75 being ¾ of a century. Three Quarters of a Century!! I stood up straighter, put my shoulders back and felt my stature. Wow! That’s quite a place to have achieved. Three quarters of a century. I better get ready. A woman of stature.
At 76, I spent my birthday in DC with my daughter and her family. Two days before my birthday, my granddaughter was 4, and I was there to celebrate that joy with them as she and her mother baked her special cake . And then two days later, they made my birthday cake and we had another celebration. When I returned home, with my son’s family, we celebrated my youngest grandson here as he became 11, two days after my birthday. I have grandchildren as bookends on either side of my birthday. How expansive and fun!
77 came and went, no big deal…and then in the same year came September when my husband also become 77. WHAT??? I’m married to a 77 year old man??? I was shocked! And that was the first time I had realized that no matter what age I was, I had felt young thanks to being “ younger than everyone” since I was 8. But now that my husband being so old changed everything! So funny how we have some thought perceptions…until we don’t.
So 78. It’s been a bit tricky. My oldest grandson became 18 a few months ago, and will leave for college in the fall. My first grandchild. I told my son that I felt as though if I leaned just a little bit to the left, I might fall into 80 … and that did feel old. Since he will be 50 a few months before I am 80, and that 18 year old heading for college is his son, he agreed about the old part … and suggested that I don’t lean that way! And today my friend who has made “White Wolf Musings” more than an idea, reminded me that the domain name has to be renewed. The choices are one year, two years or three for renewal. I had thought to renew for one year since who knows what will be in another year or two. But I must have remembered that Woman of Stature from 75. She has gotten a bit lost with doctor’s appointments and a pandemic and too many constantly changing details of life.
Then last night at a lovely family dinner, my fortune cookie said I am no longer a student, but a teacher. And today I decided to renew the “White Wolf Musings”domain name for three years, taking it through my year of being 80. Okay then. I didn’t connect the two parts until I am sitting here writing. I have more living to do to get ready for 80. Writing this as I think of sharing it with you who read here, that’s part of my preparation.
When I was 66, I met the most delightful woman of 86 in the Publix parking lot after I had confused her car for mine. We laughed and chatted a bit and I had to tell her how amazing she was at 86. She said she did try to keep her spirit going, but sometimes she got tired. When I commiserated, she asked me my age. 66. She patted my hand that was on the top of my car door and smilingly replied, “Oh, you’re just a baby.” I’ve never forgotten that wise comment.
Age is all perspective, isn’t it? How we see age and how we see ourselves. My mother continued to say she was “getting” old into her 90s. We don’t have a choice about what the number is on the calendar, but we do have a choice always about our perspective of ourselves wherever we are. Today I have shifted my perspective about being 78 and also about leaning to my left and falling into 80. I have no time for that. My time is now being 78. Be it, live it, celebrate it … and teach it. I see the Wise Woman and the White Wolf once more on the mountain together as the Wise Woman says to me, “Dale, see who you are, be who you are; there is much to be done.” I feel the joy and the energy of this moving forward with my life right now.
That is true for me and also true for you who read here. See who you are, be who you are; there IS much to be done in the living of your own life. And no one can be you, but YOU! Whatever stage you are in your journey right now, be there. I wish you blessings in your being and as always, I send you great love … (Oh … and I can promise you that I will revisit what I’ve written here on at least some of the days that I forget this message. Don’t we all need opportunities to be reminded of what we already know?)
Trish
Oh, Dale-eeee. For the past year, I have continuously “thought” I was 78, though I was really 77! Now that my 78th birthday is rapidly arriving, I’m thinking, “What happened to 77?” Even if I had not have erroneously thought I was a year older than I was, my year would have passed at warp speed, as does every milestone these days! Wasn’t it only yesterday that we were celebrating being “women of 50,” who were recognizing our lessons learned?
I love (as always) your musings about this stuff, and agree that we have a lot of living to do—until we don’t. Thank you for the lovely reminder to embrace, be in, and totally engage in the now—at whatever age we are—and to willingly and joyfully share what we’ve learned (when invited to do so) in the process of arriving here!
Dale Midgette Smith
Yes, indeed, dear Trish, it was just yesterday that we were celebrating being women of 50! Warp speed for sure…and then we see our grandchildren, too. 🙂 I always apprecite your comments here, Trish…and I would add that I do think that is not an end to our having a lot of living to do…we’ll just be in a form we can’t know about yet…part of the mystery ahead.
Diane
Ain’t it the truth? I always enjoy your wise words – thank you! xoxo