You never give up the need for mentors, as far as I can tell. I have friends who are a bit older than I am, and they guide me towards the possible futures. I see how they deal with retirement, with health issues, with grown kids and their problems, with travel, with the death of partners. They are blazing the trail, and I'm asking questions, observing, and mentally taking notes. So Saturday's big birthday bash for a dear friend who is turning eighty was fun and a revelation. First of all eighty plus folks can DANCE. They can cut a rug! Such a relief, because I love dancing. There was live Cajun music and we got down and dirty. Here we all were - from great grandchildren to their great grandparents, shuffling or bopping, but moving those feet. Is there anything more joyous?!
They forget to tell us we can still have fun when we're old. It's not the aged living brochure sentimental crap, it's the real thing. My friend sang "I Walk the Line" with new lyrics about her eight decades of parenting, loving, activism, working and partnering, and it was a celebration of all the goofy and sad and delightful and passionate parts of our lives. And there were all the young ones, seeing first hand what "old" looks like. But those of us a just a bit younger also were learning. I swept out of the front door after six hours and thought to myself - what am I going to do for my 65th? The possibilities are endless. The whole world opened up beyond that door, and my husband and I tread carefully back to our house through the dark streets (mindful of fragile bones and eyesight issues) and felt hopeful and excited. It's all doeable, really, just one step at a time.
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