The View from a Drawbridge

I’ll be turning 60 in December. Six Oh. How did that happen? Really, it’s an arbitrary milestone arrived at because we’ve figured out how long it takes earth to go around the sun, and we’ve decided to use base ten numerals to count those trips. If we had 6 fingers on each hand, this wouldn’t be such a significant… oh, wait a minute. Yes it would. Just my luck to reach an age that also divides evenly by 12.  But you get the idea.

Purely arbitrary. Yeah. That’s what it is.

For some reason I’ve been keenly aware of the passage of time this year. I’m on the downhill slope. At that point, mortality seems to rush at us all. It kind of feels like I’m standing on a roller coaster, but the cars and I aren’t moving. No. It’s the tracks, the trees, the people and the places that are flying past me.

Zero control. Time is in control. I’m just standing here, minding my own beeswax.  I’d rather be doing the moving while everything else stays where it’s supposed to be. Then I could speed up or slow down as the spirit moved me.

Milestones happen. You can either accept that fact or not accept it. Time doesn’t care what you think. Tick tock.

One thing that does make me feel like I have some sort of agency is looking back at my past. That’s because, relatively speaking, I’m in a much, much, MUCH better place in my life now than I have ever been before. I am a lot more self-aware and self-accepting. I’m a lot less terrified. I’m definitely less lonely.

Perspective. That’s what gives you agency. You can only gain perspective if you experience life. That’s why travel is so important to me. Create memories. Move forward. Gather no moss. (Unless you’re into moss.) So I guess that’s the plan.

I’ve heard a lot of younger people express confusion or even disdain regarding the concept of respecting one’s elders. In my generation, it wasn’t something one questioned. Now that I’m heading toward being one of those elders, I have a greater understanding of how much it takes to get to that point. I think I’m due some respect simply for having made it this far. You don’t have to like them, but you should respect your elders. Perhaps that’s a dying value, but those arrogant young ones will be standing on this roller coaster themselves one day, as everything rushes past them. Then they’ll get it. I hope it’s not too late by then for the whole respect thing to come back into fashion, or their final chapters will be harsher than they ought to be.

Jeez, now I really sound old.

Meanwhile, I thought I’d share with you, below, a post I wrote ten years ago, when I was about to turn 50. It’s a childhood memory, but I now see the underlying vibe that I was projecting at the time. Loneliness poured off the page. I had only moved out west 4 months prior, and didn’t know a soul. I had no one to remember my birthday, let alone celebrate it. I don’t think I’d write that post the same way now. I’ve come a long way, baby.

So, yeah. Increased perspective and agency. Life. What a ride.

The Birthday Chair

December 11, 2014

It’s funny sometimes how you entirely forget things that used to loom so large in your life. When I was very small, my mother used to have this delightful tradition on our birthdays. She would allow us to sit at the head of the table in a tall backed chair which she had decorated with balloons and streamers and bows and ribbons.

When it was your turn to sit in that chair, you’d feel really extraordinary. It was as if you were the queen of the world. And then in would come the birthday cake, alight with candles. She used to make it from scratch, just for you. Often it was a unique shape. I remember one year it was a colorfully frosted rocking horse with gumdrop spots. I was so excited!

Somewhere along the way we stopped doing the birthday chair. I have no idea why. Maybe it was because we each got to that self-conscious age and began to chafe at the special treatment. Or maybe as grinding poverty bore down upon us, she lost the will to make the effort. It’s hard to say, but somewhere along the way the tradition died out, and eventually it was forgotten.

I have no idea why it popped into my head at this point in time, but I’m turning 50 this month, and it sure would be nice to have someone treat me as if I were special. I guess I will have to train my dogs to blow up balloons and preheat the oven. What could possibly go wrong?

Are you wondering what to bring to Thanksgiving dinner? How about my book, Notes on Gratitude? Place your orders now! (Or any other time, since we’re on the subject.) And… thanks!