The Best Kept Secret: Getting Old is Okay

                        Best Kept Secret:  Getting Old is Okay

When I was in my twenties fresh out of college, for a few months I lived with my parents who’d left suburban Long Island when their last child, my youngest brother, went off to college. 

I think it’s the first time I was conscious of their age.  I was temporarily back home and meeting new people.  I saw them through my friends’ eyes along with my own and I saw them as old.  They were fifty.

I do remember how excited they were by all the things they could do, the opportunities that were now open to them living in the city.  My father was still working, but after work he loved trying the restaurants that until now he’d only been able to read about.  My mother, who hadn’t worked since I was born, immediately got a membership at the Metropolitan Museum, started volunteering at the local Red Cross and signed up for courses at the New York Botanical Garden.  She especially took to the city like a duck to water.  It was as if she had a new lease on life and I remember being proud of her, but I was also amused because she was “old.”

Now I’m older than they were then, but I don’t feel “old.” If I’m old, and by most definitions, I am, I’ve discovered that it’s not a bad place to be.  From the time I was a child until I went away to college, I didn’t feel like I had control of anything, let alone my future. It wasn’t much better after that.

For as long as I can remember there were people to worry about, standards to measure up to, and of course, the competitions.  I never figured out the rules to those competitions until it was too late, so I wasn’t very good at them, but I worried anyway.

For some reason, those competitions don’t matter so much anymore.  Maybe I’ve been around so long that I can see a lot of them are silly and have finally figured out that comparisons don’t usually make any sense.  I’m not sure.  What I do know is that I’m finally at the age where I don’t worry so much about what other people think and I don’t spend a lot of time comparing myself to others. 

There will always be people that are better looking, have more and by certain standards, are more successful.  But I’ve pretty much stopped judging myself by others.  I know I’m very lucky and have the life that I want to lead.

Of course bad luck or tragedy could be around the corner.  Most of us have experienced that first hand: a loved one who dies without warning, a serious illness that changes everything, or a personal disappointment.  No one is immune.  But even so, being older is the most comfortable I’ve ever been in my own skin.  Looking back I think that’s exactly where my parents were when they moved into the city.  My mother, particularly, was the happiest I ever saw her, but both my parents were excited and alive—even though they were “old.”  I think the same could be said about my husband and me and that makes us very lucky.

Time Flies

by Fran McNabb

The dog days of summer are upon us. No, let me rephrase that. The dog days of summer have been with us for a couple of months. This has been a very hot summer. My husband and I sit out in the afternoon and evenings to enjoy the harbor activity or to enjoy the company of neighbors. This summer we’ve spent more and more afternoon inside in air conditioning.

Maybe the weather is hotter this year, or maybe we’re just getting older and the heat affects us more. The second explanation is probably the correct one. We are getting older and as we go from one year to the next, it seems the summers are hotter and the days are flying faster than they did in the years past.

My mom used to say that as we age, the years go faster. I never paid much attention to that—until now.

We had the privilege of having our five-year-old grandson at the beginning of the summer. His birthday is the last day of August which makes all the others in his class older than he is. One day out of the blue he looked at me with a sad-sack face. “McMama, I’ll never be six.” I started to tell him he was being silly, but then, I realized that for him time isn’t passing as fast as it is for me. Getting to be six is the biggest worry his little mind has right now, and to him, the three months ahead were endless.

Yes, time flies as we get older. We clutter our minds with family matters, financial worries, career problems and on and on and on. As I look back at a simpler time in our lives—when our greatest worry was as simple as a birthday—I realize that youth and simplicity was a state of bliss.

That six-year-old birthday party was celebrated early this year, and at the party I heard the little

fellow tell a friend, “I’m not six yet.” I didn’t say anything though I wanted to say that his real birthday would be here before he knew it, and before he could blink an eye he’d be an adult celebrating graduations, births, and anniversaries with his own family. I hope these future celebrations will be as anticipated and as wonderful as his “real six-year-old birthday.”

Yes, time does seem to fly, but I hope as adults we can still feel the innocent excitement we once felt in childhood.

 

FRAN MCNABB and her husband have two sons and two grandsons and have enjoyed watching these young men experience life as they mature. She writes sweet romances and loves including children in her books. Visit her at www.FranMcNabb.com or at mcnabbf@bellsouth.net.

Reflections

Recent posts on holiday lights brings to mind an item I read in the newspaper. At that time, I found the column amusing, but now I'm not so sure. The Christmas lights do add to the beauty of holiday decorations and displays. However, all the additional light and intense focus on holiday traditions doesn't always bring happy results.

Any smooth surface around these lights will give off reflections. There's no escape from the image of the gray haired woman staring back at you when you pass a store window or mirror. At first you think the image resembles your deceased mother. Perhaps you turn quickly to get a better glimpse of someone passing on the street behind you, but see no one familiar. You may dust a table or glance at a framed photo and see a reflection of the stranger again. She looks familiar, and yet she doesn't. But she is always there, peeping over your shoulder when you pass a light reflecting surface. When you can't find a favorite book or misplace your keys, you recall how your mother once did the same things.

The impression gets worse when you attempt to pass on family traditions.  Recipes can't be found, or attempts to cook your family favorites go awry. You're desperate to recreate memories from the past, yet your attempts fall short of your expectations.

All the while, that older woman appears behind you like a shadow, and you're certain she is always frowning. You're disappointed at what you consider your failure to rekindle traditions. Yet guests compliment your decorations. Others love the refreshments or ask your secret of creating such a wonderful holiday scent in your home.

But you can be certain not everyone likes the same thing, and that is true of writers and readers. Even the best of friends aren't going to like the same movies, music or books, and that is good news. Each person will notice something different. You may love the extra hint of sage in the holiday stuffing, while your family may love the moist/dry consistency. And you can bet that shadowy image is going to be there, and she will always forget some detail...

The good news is that all readers don't read your book to look for mistakes. Most people read purely for pleasure, and even that reflection in the mirror smiles some of the time.

Now...about those other reflections, the ones you assumed this post was about... Do you look back on the past year and make New Years' Resolutions?