Old Enough to Die!

That's the thought that tiptoed into my mind some weeks ago.  It came to me when I saw (on FaceBook of all places) that someone I knew from high school died.  It was sudden from what I see.  No illness, not an accident, just found at home deceased.  He was 60.  To me he was "only 60" as I am "only" 61.  But it occurred to me that dying in ones 60's is no longer too young to die.  That can be said of someone in their fifties and certainly any earlier than that.  But, somehow, once the crest of the sixth decade arrives... you are there (or at least I am)... old enough to die.

Of course there are plenty of people around well into their 80's and beyond.  My former mother-in-law (God bless her for so many reasons) is 85 or + (not sure) and she is my ideal.  My husband's aunt lived to be 101 (not sure I want to hang on that long).  My own mother died when she was 74.  With everything I can put together about myself I'll probably live to be around 75.  Then again I really could die tomorrow.  But I've realized that for me I am really old enough to die.

And, if so, have I lived a life that I'm right with finishing?  That's a question for another writing when I've had more time and perhaps a bit of wine :)

My Big Reveal!

So... I'm 61 and still adjusting. MY word "Endolescence" (you saw it here first) much like adolescence - where your body, your mind, your hormones and your expectations are jumbled in a ball if not ricocheting throughout you. And I'm coming through that period to my young oldagehood.

I am vain enough to try and find a style for this next decade:

1. I'm lazy so my hair is longer and grayer but I'm no Scandinavian beauty like those women populating Pinterest... So I'll just keep my hair pulled back in a hopefully sophisticated ponytail. Save some money that way too.

2. I've always hated all makeup except of course for eye makeup and I have a lot more time... So... I'll work on a tan (spray and sun intermittently) and voila = I no longer look like a stalk of celery.

3. And sunglasses - always loved accessorizing - now I need all kinds of glasses to see far and wide and close and tiny. So... The bigger and darker the better. Plus it keeps me away from strangers.

4. Lastly crisp cotton white tailored shirts are a classic for any age. Stand up collars and folded cuffs are just too completely cool. So... Still love them and still wear them whenever I can. I'm way past Chico's (no frills or bling) but I'm not dead (will never do polyester). So... My colors are black, white and gray (to match my hair)... And sometimes a surprise beige in there somewhere.

And who do I look like?

Caught myself in a reflection the other day...

And oh my God I look like...

Wait for it...

KARL LAGERFELD !!!

Well, the man has style!

And,  I really should smile (might hide my jowls).


wink emoticon

Guns and such...

How do I write this without sounding overdramatic?  The first half of my generation (maybe I shouldn't presume this for all) was -- I don't want to say defined by but it certainly was marked by assassinations.  And it is our haunting.

I was in the fifth grade when JFK was killed and like everyone else I remember every part of that day from the principal calling an assembly to announce the shooting to watching teachers in tears as they rolled in TVs to our classrooms so we could all keep up with what was happening together.  When I came home that day my grandmother was crying.  Walter Cronkite (I think thats who it was) looked stunned as he reported on the events of the day.  I was one of the millions who witnessed the live shooting of Lee Harvey Oswald.  And for days I remember a quiet in the air everywhere where grown ups would huddle and talk and shake their heads.  They were all in shock and no one could explain to us (the children) the whys for this.

Fast forward to 1980.  A few years shy of 30.  I was driving my rickety little Tercel home from work and put the radio on to hear nothing but John Lennon's music on every station and then one DJ talking about his assassination. I didn't think it was serious at first.  I really thought it was something more like that strange time where it was said if you played one of the Beatle's recordings backwards you could hear the words:  "Paul is dead."  But it was true and to me it represented something so sad for about my time.

Like bookends - JFK and John Lennon.  Years before and in between were Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy in 1968.  Jumbled in between and after were the failed attempts to kill George Wallace, Ford and Reagan and who else?

Good morning sunshine...

This morning I hear a single bird and just noticed the magic of the morning light outside.  There is this glow at the tops of the still naked trees resulting from the rising sun and it is simply beautiful.  It's a sort of "stop and smell the roses moment" where I realize the wisdom of the Buddha's teachings.  A wonderful start to a day!

And all of this with a single cup of coffee.  Good morning sunshine.

Stuff!

You know you are older when you start thinking you have too much "stuff."  Too much stuff to carry, too much stuff to pack, too much stuff to dust.  I now have enough time and disposable income to buy more than I would have without a bit of guilt years ago and... I don't want to.  I used to buy clothes almost because they simply fit.  Now I am looking for staples:  a good looking white shirt (one can never have enough), shoes (only if they are pretty and comfortable - and then if they are really comfortable AND pretty I might get two pairs). My wardrobe is black, white, shades of "greige" with an occasional pop of color and then I have rules for that too: red, cobalt blue and/or taxi cab yellow.  At my age with my skin tone pale colors tend to make me look like celery and any browns make me really look mousy.  And I want my wardrobe to be useful for at least three seasons (hate to change out my closet nowadays).

Even around the house!  I used to "collect" candles, pitchers and bowls.  Well I don't want anymore candles unless they smell great and I can dispose of them when I'm done.  All the holders I've accumulated in the past I'm selling as "vintage" on Etsy.  By definition on Etsy vintage is 20 years or older.  That's easy - there's nothing in my house newer than twenty years.  I'm not pouring anything from pitchers so they're going too and I have one giant glass bowl that is now my everything bowl even if its just a salad for two.

Then there are the bigger things around the house I really need to get rid of and buy replacements for but haven't yet.  Example:  we have a dishwasher so old I call it the "sanitizer."  We have to WASH our dishes BEFORE we put them in the dishwasher so the only good purpose for our current one is to sanitize and hide away the clutter.  Our glasses are rather opaque.  I'm rather amazed when I see how beautifully clear glass can be (when I'm at someone else's house).

We actually have a Maytag washer well over two decades old.  It clanks, bangs, and rocks, probably using more water than is environmentally acceptable these days.  But it works so why change it.  Oh but the age of the dryer is haunting me.  I'm afraid of a fire starting somewhere with 20 plus years of lint collecting in places I can't clean out.

My wonderful double convection oven is going and they actually do not make the replacement parts anymore.  Doesn't that sound "old."  Among the  other widgets and gadgets for it, the self cleaning timer doesn't work.  I'm trying to hold out long enough for a new one so I don't have to clean it one more time.  Of course we had to disengage the smoke alarm (and now I can't find that).   The stove top lost one burner years ago but there is only my husband and I.  And the charcoal (or whatever that impossible-to-clean black "gack") build up is hasn't killed us yet.

Who knew?  I never ever thought I would ever have more than I really need.  A blessing in disguise no?

To Continue...

I miss writing here.  It is has become almost therapeutic, whether there is a real audience out there or not.  However, in an effort to be abundantly cautious let me first place this warning:  Since this is MY blog I have, do, and will, write about my own personal feelings which I take complete responsibility for.   If any expression I may have displayed here offends anyone I apologize.  I certainly mean no harm.  With that said, I reserve the right to continue my musings on people, places and things... thoughts or dreams... complaints and grumblings as I wish.  And I may, from time to time, rant on (without malice) if some experience I have had is (to me alone) worth my writing about (see "Apple Ugh").

 Having said that, I continue with my journalling my journey to sixty... The good, bad and the ugly...

Fear of boredom...

I'd love to write something profound with every day as I get closer to 60.  That's not going to happen for a few reasons:  

1 -  I can't possibly write everyday without it becoming a burden (bore);

2 - Without some hopefully universal significance this becomes meaningless rambling; and 

3 - My life just isn't that interesting which is not to say it isn't special and precious to me.

As I get older and continue to collect years of information building my own history, it becomes abundantly clear to me that my life is not too surprising for that of a typical member of the baby boomer generation.  I am not the statistical anomaly I always thought.  Or am I...

If I think about the span of sixty years so far I have two lists of significant memories.  One historical that is shared by most people my age at least in this country and the other personal.

Maybe for the next few entries I'll simply explore those...