Granny glasses, cardigans and thongs

Just got back from a quick outlet shopping trip. This may have nothing to do with those reading glasses I bought yesterday, but I found myself having to buy cute new undies today. Unfortunately, this necessitated trying on bras as well, always a dispiriting affair. But I made up for it with several pretty little thongs. Now where’s that Buns of Steel video…

Alicia commented on my last post that she reveres getting older and wearing sweaters and glasses (ah, you say that because you’re so young!). It’s not that I don’t revere age, but I think my model for getting older is my mom, who’s always had a very young attitude. Though she loved being a mother, she never seemed very mom-like compared to the other women of her generation. When my friends’ moms and the neighborhood moms all had those tight-curl poodle hairdos and wore housedresses, my mom dressed stylishly and had an office job. Now nearly 74 and with early-stage Alzheimer’s, she still looks a lot younger than her age and she still loves clothes. And she balks at going to any event or trip for “seniors” because she says “I’m not a senior!” She also doesn’t want to be with “all those old folks who do nothing but complain about how this hurts and that hurts!” Good for her – her attitude has kept her young.

Secondly, I have many women friends who are older than me. They’re active, creative, attractive, and always exploring new things, and so they continue to provide excellent role models for the second half of my life. When I think of my grandmother, who was 62 when I graduated from college and who I always remember as being a little old lady, it’s so different from the way we view age now. No doubt the baby boom generation, of which I am on the tail end and thus the recipient of all their pioneering, is bringing their stay-young attitude along with them. Yes, we should revere the wisdom that age brings – we don’t do that nearly enough – but that shouldn’t stop us from being fit, active, youthful and ever growing, too.

---

There will be new dreams every night

From poets.org, a poem by Joyce Sutphen:

Crossroads

The second half of my life will be black
to the white rind of the old and fading moon.
The second half of my life will be water
over the cracked floor of these desert years.
I will land on my feet this time,
knowing at least two languages and who
my friends are. I will dress for the
occasion, and my hair shall be
whatever color I please.
Everyone will go on celebrating the old
birthday, counting the years as usual,
but I will count myself new from this
inception, this imprint of my own desire.

The second half of my life will be swift,
past leaning fenceposts, a gravel shoulder,
asphalt tickets, the beckon of open road.
The second half of my life will be wide-eyed,
fingers shifting through fine sands,
arms loose at my sides, wandering feet.
There will be new dreams every night,
and the drapes will never be closed.
I will toss my string of keys into a deep
well and old letters into the grate.

The second half of my life will be ice
breaking up on the river, rain
soaking the fields, a hand
held out, a fire,
and smoke going
upward, always up.

3:44:18 PM      trackback []