Double Nickels

Oh my god! I've done it again. I've lived another year.

This year, 50-FIVE (I have to find creative ways to write it so I won't freak out at the sight), is particularly notable for me for a couple of reasons. First, my mother died at the age of 49 so my first few years beyond 49 felt only cautiously optimistic. Six years later, I can throw caution to the wind.

Secondly, a million years ago when I was 21 and worked for Kelly Services in the Traveler's building in mid-Wilshire, there was a little sundries store in the lobby with a really sweet little Indian guy whose name escapes me. Part of his culture was to read palms. Now I don't believe in palm reading - and I didn't believe it then either - but he looked at my palm and told me I would live about 50 years. I remember thinking that 50 was "young" but it was still light years away sooooo - so what, right? Well I am hear to tell you that as 50 crept into focus during the next three decades I couldn't get that "dead date" out of my head. And when I got to be 50, I started paying close attention. So for the past 5 years I have sort of assumed his words "around 50" to mean the 50 - 54 range. I appear to be safely out of that range now and so I can put that nonsense to bed and start worrying about much more realistic stuff like what if I spill salt or break a mirror or something like that.

Fifty-five is weird because there is no fooling yourself at 55. Fifty still sounds reasonable. But 55 is really getting to the point where you can't convince even yourself that you aren't on "the other side". You may be just on the other side but they dead-bolted the door behind you. You can still be fun and hip and cool, but only "for your age". You could be nearly everyone's mother. And there is no getting around that fact that gravity does not reverse itself. Even with surgery you are at an age when people no longer would say: "Fifty-five? You don't even look forty-five!" Instead they would say: "Did you have it done in Beverly Hills?" Because at a certain age, no matter how good it is - you can tell.

Still - I look okay. In the right light. If I hold my up slightly. Through gauze. And only in a portrait frame because full length is not my "best side". I have a friend Linda who told me that you either keep your body or you keep your face. I've kept my face. But my neck gives off not-so-subliminal reminders of Thanksgiving so its only a matter of time.

The weirdest thing of all for me though, is to think that my dad has kids in their 50s. How can anyone have kids in their 50s? I can't be his kid. I can only be some blood relative. Even though he can still stop me dead in my tracks and make me feel like I am 16.

However - none of that is important. I am grateful and blessed. I may be imperfect and at an age when I could be a grandma (don't you dare, girls!) but I feel in the prime of my life with limitless opportunities and potential. In fact...


...My amazing employer, Sage Publications, offers all its employees an incredible gift. My employer will pay 100% of all expenses to go back to school to earn a degree. And so, starting in the fall, I am going to college. For real.

I may be 55 but I am as excited as a school girl. Happy birthday to me.