Freaks of nature

In a couple weeks I will be 50 years old.  I have bragged about the fact that I am ok with this.  Birthdays are really just a number, right?  Its only how old you feel, right?  Its how great you make each day, right?  Well, I have been telling myself this since I turned 49 just so turning 50 would be no big deal.  I just don’t think we have a choice in the matter.  No matter how hard or easy you try to slide through 50, its there.  In your mind there is something about it that has been looming since you were a teenager.

My poor husband.  He is younger than me and has no idea.  His turn will come.  Right now he gets to witness a self reflecting “whats-this-all-about-and-where-do-I-fit-in-the-big-picture-and-how-do-I-beat-the-game”  attitude.  Sorry dear.

I remember when I was 17 years old.  I would count the years until the year 2000 and think to myself, “wow, I sure hope I live that long”.  I was 36 that year.  I also at a young, inexperienced age  have watched some of my friend’s parents at 50 struggling with all the blows life had given them to the best of their ability and it touched my heart so much for them.  It also created a hasty generalization of the age in and of itself.  That was my picture of 50.  Struggling, chaos, traps and chains.  Decisions regretting and unable to overcome.  With this view came my thoughts of man, I hope I don’t have to live that long! 

Even though I am approaching the major turning point, I have learned so much, dealt with so much, and suffered so much, I would not trade a day or desire to leave this planet at such a young age as 50.  And for the record, AARP, you are evil in sending me that application which just arms my husband with all kinds of fun.   Now if I could just get this chart straightened out:

What does your 14 look like?

On the day my youngest son turns 14, I can’t help but sit here and reflect on what life was like when I was 14.  My mind immediately escapes to the times I spent with my grandparents.  In the little white house in the woods by the river near the railroad tracks encompassed all the wonders of life that any kid could ask for. We spend endless days jumping rocks through the river, trekking an adventure to the railroad tracks (which we were not allowed to do) and searching for lost treasure along the banks like explorers.  We never lacked for things to do outside.  One of our favorite activities was the hammock.  My grandfather had a navy hammock he hung between two trees across the spare driveway. This hammock was not your average hammock.  It was a thick heavy material like a canvas with thick rope on the ends that would attach to the trees.  It was the most durable non-kid friendly fun I have ever experienced.  It was so tough, my brothers and I would take turns wrapping each other up in this hammock like a cocoon and swinging it in full circle rotation.  Your turn ended when you couldn’t hold on anymore and were dumped onto the ground at centrifugal force.  First lesson learned from my grandparents was at this time.  As we each took turns coming inside with our scrapes and bruises, my grandfather never flinched and would say, “that’s all you got?” while my grandmother immediately pulled out the Bactine, covered us in it,  and sent back outside without as much as a worried look.  Life’s tough but nothing you can’t handle.

Over the years my grandmother continued to give me advice and become a role model for me.  We spent endless days delivering meals to people who were homebound. This was one of my favorite things to help her with. The blind lady that would pour us a glass of juice every time we came by was the only person I ever met that defied everything I thought about being blind.  She had a talking bird that entertained me while the adults talked.  I loved these people. The joy they always showed when I thought they should be sad because of their circumstances.  As a teenager, I didn’t understand it. We would then head to the library to pick up her endless amount of books she would read.  I asked her one time. “Don’t you get bored reading all those books?”  She turned to me and said very matter-of-factly,  “Cheryl, you better learn to love to read.  There is nothing better in the time you are alone than to have a good book.”  I shuddered at the thought.  Today, I am thankful for her wisdom.  A good book has brought me through some tough days and given me a way to slow down this super highway called life.  Along with the ever resounding “drink you orange juice and take a multivitamin everyday”, I cherish every word and thankful to have such an influence in my younger years that have continued to help me in my older years.

 Its been a long time since grandma passed away, but she still encourages me.  I’m sure she had no idea I was even paying attention being a teenager and all but I was. Just as your children and grandchildren are watching everything you do and say, know they will mold their lives around all they have seen more than what you say.  I hope to be that to my kids and grandkids and like my grandmother, I may never know.  14 was a good year.  I would do it again.