Working on August’s Monthly Challenge, I am continuing my Series “All the World is a Stage ~ and I am Aging Upon It”
It is unrealistic to refer to myself as middle-aged. While there are centenarians, and more power to them, they are the exception and not the rule. However, at fifty the goal post of what counts as OLD keeps moving. Whatever age you are, if you are older than me, then you are old.
I am not just listening to “Oldies” because I am aged and crotchety. I am not trying to relive my youth. My memories are very clear about the good, bad and ugly of those years. However, it is my opinion that the best singers and songwriters came out of the 1970’s. Lyrics could be understood and instruments were not electrical switches on a board. So you will still hear me singing along with James Taylor and Carole King. Consider it an enjoyment of the music not an indication of my fossilized past.
Or, if it helps the rationalization, then we discuss those unfortunate things that happen to our outer selves after a certain age. I have arthritis in my hands, knees, feet, back and spine. We smile and demure that it just comes with age. Of course our hair is thinning, it is those meds the doctor makes us take. The doctor told my husband that he could have a head of hair or a healthy heart. These choices are not nearly as clear as chocolate or vanilla and definitely not as much fun.
Unfortunately, I have had to have many surgeries in my 30’s and 40’s. If they have taken out so many things, how come I just keep getting bigger?
Such are the mysteries I am discovering at fifty.
This is the stage where you go to the basement and cannot remember why you went down or what you came for. However, you can remember your favorite childhood toy, the name of the girl who pushed your head into the water fountain (yes, this really happened), and the phone numbers of the houses you used to live in. My husband can forget to buy milk, but he can remember the 12 digit number on the side of a half-inch screw.