I never had much reason to lie about my age.
In high school we were all about 16 more or less and obtained our coveted driver’s licenses at the same time. But now that I have a 46-year-old daughter, there’s not a lot of room to fudge. Plus, my friends are all the same age, plus or minus.
My birthday is Dec. 29, and I turned 73 years old. Imagine!
There’s pros and cons to living through seven decades and 3 years. I’ve read a lot of mysteries, watched tons of TV and seen as many movies as I could. Sadly, you can no longer surprise me. If Dave and I see a movie that we can’t predict “who done it”, it’s a good day.
I’ve never pretended to be a “high brow.” I often lose myself in true crime shows like “Dateline”, but there’s usually no mystery there. It’s always the spouse that did it.
But my intellectual pleasure is the New Yorker Magazine—the best writing in the world. I like that it comes down on the liberal side, and some folks will be irritated by that, but we’re not talking politics here, we’re talking use of language, use of humor, art, music, film and theater criticism. When you live in Montrose, Colorado, it’s refreshing and fun to hear what’s going on in NYC.
So, what happened in my personal 876 months? Well, little me started in the darkest part of the year in the northern latitude of Montreal. My parents made the bold decision to move when I was 11, and we headed to the warm climes of Los Angeles.
I had an idyllic teenage time in L.A., got married at 21, and moved to San Francisco in 1967, “The Summer of Love”. I lived in Aspen for three years and Telluride for 21. I was on Telluride Town Council when the future town was being shaped. I went to Western State at 47 and and finished a BA in history and journalism. I traveled in Europe and learned to fly a small plane in Montrose. I’ve had two husbands (one for the early years and Dave for the rest.) I have a wonderful daughter and two excellent grandchildren.
So, I’m 73 this last week of 2018.
This has been a bad year for our country; it brings to mind my time in San Francisco, in 1968, when all the young people were raging against the Vietnam War and leaders were being assassinated. 2018 will go down in history as the year that America changed from a country that rescues refugee families to one that breaks them apart and locks them up, or throws them out without due process. I detest that babies and little children are separated from their asylum-seeking parents at the southern border (It’s still hard to believe that America really does that!). I pray that when the new leadership comes in, this can be resolved.
My New Year’s Resolution for 2019 is that the country will be less divisive, there will be fewer natural disasters and serious work will begin on saving our planet. I will walk more and be less of a hermit. And I will find a way to do more to help make next year better for all of us.