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?