On Friday night as I was helping a friend host six 6-year-olds for a birthday sleepover, a 29-year-old mom of one of them began describing a weekend party she was going to in the hill country.
"Lots of music," she said. "And everyone camps out. It's great. Thrown by this older guy. He's 50 and has been ..."
My glare interrupted her.
"Or maybe 60, probably 70 or 80. That's what I meant by 'older' really!" she stammered and smiled at being caught in the backhanded ouch she'd sent my way.
Four years from now and I'm her version of "old."
Today I picked up some books about generations. I'm teaching a class in a couple of weeks and thought I might need to do some catch up. One is called Leap. Written by a one-time in demand writer, the book chronicles lots of Boomers reflecting on getting older and specifically the question What Will We Do with the Rest of Our Lives?
So far it's been kind of a downer! She's talking about how Carly Simon, Tom Hayden and herself have dealt (or not) with rejection at their age. Famous people ... getting older ... feeling less than ... yeah, cheery reading alright!
I must admit that the last few months I've noticed lines I hadn't seen before. I'm wondering about choices made and squandered. But overall, I'm not really hating this aging thing so much.
Since I never had a tight ass I don't have the same issues with my body as Christie Brinkley. And, frankly, I'll take the wisdom I've gained over my cheeks being perky any day.
In fact, one of the party games I played inside my head Friday reflected just how much I do value where I am. I sat looking at the diversity of personalities in each of those 6 year old faces. I noted that the special needs kid was totally accepted in the other girls' play, without question and quite possibly without notice of her special status. I watched them in their pre-bitchiness, that thing that happens to girls and then women that makes us eat our own. And I marveled. I marveled at what would become of them. I marveled that it would take 40 years for them to catch up to where I was at that very moment. I got a little misty eyed considering their possibilities and what they might do with them.
Then I thanked my Creator for my now and got ready to dance one more dance to Hannah Montana.