In an attempt to slow life's quickening pace, I'm writing to share my personal perspective on the aging process, its dilemmas, the humorous self-deception, the insights and the adventure of it all.
I spent the bulk of my time in beautiful Santa Barbara, CA, but manage to get to NYC several times a year.
I've been a dancer/dance teacher and dance supporter almost all my life. For the past 9 years, I help create and produce a month-long creative residency in Santa Barbara for contemporary American choreographers and their dancers. It's been incredibly gratifying.
I also now spend several weeks a year in Kyoto Japan. I've been magnetically attracted to Japan for many years. Now I live out a dream to live there part-time.
A noun is the name of a person, place or thing. A sock is an article of clothing pulled onto a foot. Why mention them together? They both seem to take joy in disappearing just when needed. Add reading glasses to the mix too. For many years, reading glasses and socks seemed twined in a disappearance conspiracy. Sock learned the trick early on. Reading glasses must have been a quick study, because one day, she pulled the same stunt, although obviously not in the washing machine. Even if bought in multiples, they all cleverly figured out how to vanish at the same time. Somehow signals must have been sent to each other. Continue reading “Disappearing Acts”→
Something gets lost in birthday celebrations between 8-80. Anticipation can turn to dread. Excitement can fade. Parties can seem self-indulgent and contrived.
My husband turns 80 tomorrow. To say that he’s not happy about it is an understatement. If our family had permitted it, he would ignore the changing of the decade. But we all concluded easily that he must celebrate and that we must unite behind the celebration.
He put me off more easily than he could our daughters. I soon gave up the challenge of getting him to yes. Our daughters seemed not to have too hard of a time getting him to agree to something “small.” Thankfully, they took over the planning and he cooperated. He likes to make them happy.
I’ve had a small journey of my own wrapping my head around the reality of my husband becoming 80. Despite all the euphemisms and nonsense such as The Golden years, You’re only as old as you think you are and Just like fine wine, you grow better with the years.
I’m hoping this experience will be good preparation for me when I round the corner myself in a few short years. I will want to celebrate. Maybe if I start dieting now, I’ll be able to wear a size 8 dress and everyone will remark, You don’t LOOK 80! Continue reading “the Big Eight Oh!”→
Flashback! The year, 1960.or ’61. The sound, jazz. The feel, beatnik wanna be. The setting, a dingy nightclub under railroad tracks in run down industrial city.
It was the T Club. I had one or two friends who I could easily convince to come along with me. In order to get there, I had to get my Mother’s car. That required some white lies, which I could easily justify to myself. If I had told Mom the truth, she’d never would say yes. She probably would think I’d lost my mind.
It was a summer thing. About once a week. Head up a very long and dark flight of stairs to the closed-door at the top of the stairs. Enter the dark and smoky T Club. Take a seat at a small table near the stage. Order cocktail(s). No id’s required. Smoke ciggies. Feel very devil-may-care. Look around to see if my current crush might be there. Rarely, but one could hope. Zone out to the sound of jazz. Look cool. Feel cool. We didn’t call ourselves beatniks, but we were under the influence for sure. Continue reading “The T Club Flashback”→
What is it that attracts us to a place? Does it remain the same through life?
Last year, after a long hiatus, my husband and I decided to vacation in Key West. We used to come here for a yearly getaway while living in college and then when newly married. In the 1950’s it seemed more remote than it does today, traffic and development have increased with few benefits that I can see. It could be easy to fall into the “you should have seen it 50 years ago syndrome,” but my memory is not keen enough to have a clear image of what it all used to look like. All that I really recalled clearly was the lure of the oceans surrounding the keys. Depending on where you live and your life experiences, Key West probably means different things to you than it does to me.
If from the West Coast, probably nothing.
If from the East or Mid-West:
T shirt shoppes, bad art galleries and thousands of cruise passengers looking for Paradise on Duval Street?
If of a certain age:
Lily Pulitzer? Sloppy Joes?
yummy Lily fabric designs
Ernest Hemingway/Tennessee Williams/literary history (It’s almost an obsession here. Stay away from his house if you’re allergic to cats.)
If still in college:
Drunken revelers?
To everyone:
Gorgeous sunsets? water, water? blue, aquamarine, turquoise. JImmy Buffett
roosters? Roosters and chickens can appear anywhere at any time. It adds to the Bahamian feel of the place. Sometimes they frighten me if they all of a sudden crow loudly when I don’t see them in nearby bushes. I imagine them snickering at me from their hiding spots when they see me jump in fear.
I had a few hazy memories of Key West in the early ’60’s, nothing that matches the current reality. No matter. Many of the things I’m drawn to are intact. This trip, I was blown away by the numbers of historic buildings here. Stuff rarely got torn town so that most everything that survived the fire of the late 1880’s is still remaining. Thanks to the lgbt community, the once dilapidated remains have largely been restored and probably never looked better. Key West now has the largest number of wooden historic houses of any town or city in the USA.
has the largest number of wooden historic houses of any town or city in the USA.
