“We had so many dreams as children. Where do they go when we grow? Are they swallowed up by the mundane things of everyday life? Or do we lose them, leave them behind us in the dust, for new children to find and take up?” – Helen Hollick
“How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you was?” – Satchel Paige
“There is a fountain of youth: it is your mind, your talents, the creativity you bring to your life and the lives of people you love. When you learn to tap this source, you will truly have defeated age.” – Sophia Loren
As Monday slowly turns the calendar’s page to Tuesday this week, I will move closer to the age of 60 than 50.
I’m finding it a little hard to believe.
I still remember turning 16. And 25. And 30. And 40.
Even 50 did not frighten me. Nor did 55.
I’ve always been happy as a kid with an ice cream cone to celebrate another birthday, no matter the numerical value attached.
I have friends who fret and fidget about getting older. I also know folks who will not, no matter how much coaxing, divulge their age.
In years past, when I’ve told people my age, most of them have looked surprised, then made the pronouncement, “I never would have guessed you were that old.”
Sort of a back-handed compliment, but I’ll take it. I hope they were being honest and not just blowing smoke.
I’ve heard wisdom increases with age. Maybe so. I know some very wise folks who are 60 and well beyond. Most of them, as a matter of fact, seem much younger than their chronological ages.
There’ve been some changes I’m noticing as my numbers move on up.
I used to want to be on the go all the time. I never understood my grandmother, and now my dad, and others who would visit for a day or two and then be hell-bent on getting back home.
Now, I understand.
I enjoy going, but more than that, I love being home. It matters not whether I have things that need to be done at home. I just like being there.
It used to embarrass me not to know the names of the current bands – I felt my younger friends and co-workers would label me ancient or uncool. No more.
These days if I hear music I like, I might ask entertainment writer and knower of all things musical, Sheena Barnett, “Who’s that?” Mostly, I just wallow contentedly in my ignorance and feel right sorry for my young friends when I mention Dan Fogelberg or James Taylor or Carole King and they offer me blank stares.
My body and I have become a believer in the practice of chiropractic. Not that I ever doubted others benefited from visits to the folks who help take care of the neuromusculoskeletal system.
Thanks to my friend Dan Mathews, a lot of the aches and pains I’d gotten used to are gone. He’s a keeper.
So, I’m getting older. Better? That’s up for discussion.
Still and yet, whether I’m nearing 60 or 70, even 80, I’m quite happy to be among the living.