What does one say on reaching the three-quarters-of-a-century mark as I have now done? What are the words of wisdom? What is it we see for ourselves at this point? What is it we've done in these past 75 years ... or not done that we thought we would? The one constant, it seems to me, is to remain as flexible as possible whether that's in espousing new ideas, keeping one's body mobile, or "simply" expressing a consistent gratitude for life however it shows up.
I've now lived longer than either parent, my only sibling, and my spouse. I certainly can't say that I still feel, say, 16. No, in a way, I feel ancient, yet still perking along. I do find that though I always thought of myself as "a person of projects," that seems to have ebbed as a degree of stamina has given way. Also, I always thought I'd want to continue to "see the world." That, too, seems more trouble than I care to put into it anymore, including all that mish-mash at airports, cramped seating on planes, extra charges, and jet lag. And then my favorite mode of travel--by ship--is now a thing of the past. (Also, having no warm soul to go with ... or to meet at the other end now seems important though I used to go places on my own.)
I think my mind and memory are doing pretty well but I do find myself sort of "skipping" things sometimes as if, after so many years of concentrating and wanting to take everything in, I know what all that's like and feel I no longer have to be quite so conscientious about it. It's a bit as if I'm skimming over the tops of things rather than always having to get down into them and fit things together. Maybe I'm getting lazy. After 75 years, you have a good idea where conversations are going ... or how the news is going to be reported ... or what book and movie plots are like, etc.
When I think back to the year I was born--1938--it feels as if it were part of some period drama, as, I guess, it now was. Back when cars looked classically old-fashioned, when women wore silks and satins, high heels and stockings, when you wrote (and received) letters from friends and relatives with stamps that didn't say "Forever" on them. Back when we looked things up in books or card catalogs not having all this info at our finger tips. Back when the news was broadcast on the radio for a short period each day ... and life didn't seem so frenzied despite the aching problems and continuing conflicts that persisted. When holidays were celebrated on the days themselves, not the nearest Monday. When you drove over hill and dale to visit your cousins along two-lane "surface roads" bounded by walnut groves and orange orchards that were being bulldozed even then.
Here's something I just learned. This 75th birthday is known as one's dodranscentennial. That is, 100 with 25 taken away from it.
Happy dodranscentennial!
ReplyDeleteMary