My husband and I filed for Social Security today, and for Medicare. Welcome, geezerdom. By the time I'd sorted through Senior Discounts and tickets, AARP magazines and the like, I'm prepared. I've had Medicare Part A for almost a year. Now for Part B! I am relieved to have begun the switch. It will take a couple of months for us to be official and have the cards. It still seems strange to be this old, and not feel as crumpled on the inside as I look on the outside. I'm so old now I no longer worry about what is age appropriate or if my hair is too long. I think witches have it nailed: long gray hair and black to the ankles. Hides a multitude of sins.
I was talking with my best friend yesterday and saying I'd begun a new book, and she worried it might not be saleable. For heaven's sake, even my books that are marketable are not really, according to the agents I've tried. I might as well write what I damn please. There is no audience anyway, so who cares if I'm writing a book about sitting with people dying. I'm beyond those kind of boundaries, at my age.
I've written a book about battered women's shelters from the workers point of view, and that, according to my agent, was supposed to be a mini-series. I've written a mystery, a comedy set in Texas, a book about a white woman and a Black homeless man she lets live in the basement, a memoir of Fiji. It matters not what I write - I do not have the luck of the Irish, or Scottish, or German. I have the luck of the Native American.
So, I'm free, free, free of success or ambition or judgment! Well, almost.
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