Hello 70’s

June 22nd I turned my life-calendar ahead to another decade: the 70’s. Seventy feels like a ridiculously big number that makes me wonder, how on earth did this happen already?

This is how. I have been busy doing life with a web of family and friends; work and pleasure (sometimes one and the same); adventures and challenges; joys and setbacks. The decades have rolled along, birthday celebrations have come and gone.

Before I was old enough to remember, I’ve had a birthday party – beginning as a child with my Mom’s example of celebrating family, especially remembering the day of their birth. Acknowledging birthdays with a party is significant to me too. My husband Derryl and I are a month apart in age, to the day. The summer we turned fifty, both of us then avid runners, planned a walk-run birthday party for a gang of guests: family and friends from all our social circles. Bib numbers sported an identical number: 50. Delicious food and drinks were promised post-activity: a strategy used by most legit event organizers. Participation wasn’t optional. Several distances were plotted and routes explained. Even my retired-farmer-Dad: then eighty-one, who never did comprehend why someone would choose for fun to go for a walk or run, was a good sport and walked a few blocks with some of the younger set. Everyone chose the route that felt doable for them: our group of crazy-about-running friends were all in, opting for the longest distance. The intention was for everyone to finish back at our house at pretty much the same time: which worked out well and thankfully there were no DNF’s (Did Not Finish)!

Blessed with a gloriously beautiful summer morning, I think everyone had a good time: Derryl and I sure did.

Today my running shoes aren’t laced up ready to run. They aren’t hanging up for decoration either. Outdoor footwear has evolved into hiking shoes and sturdy sandals. I cheer for women my age who are still running; my aging process hasn’t allowed that – arthritis, past injuries, etc. – and I’m okay with choosing physical activities to best serve my goals for the long haul marathon.

Yesterday’s birthday celebrations didn’t include an organized walk-run. Yet I was on the go from morning to night. The day before, Gail, my first and forever NS friend – had called to invite me for a birthday walk. We opted for an ocean beach and hike around Gaff Point. One of my favourites.

After we parted, I barely had time to change my shirt, ‘doll up’ with some earrings, and head off to another friend’s for lunch. Where – surprise to me – four additional mutual friends were waiting on the porch singing “happy birthday……. ” . Super meal, both fun and serious conversation about aging and more, lots of laughter. Thank you Sue and friends.

Derryl and I and our nearest neighbours had dinner reservations at one of Lunenburg’s (Nova Scotia) charming restaurants. Interesting conversation, good food, patio ambience with a view of a Maritime coast. Could it get any better?

Derryl and I took a twilight walk after on the wharf, where we met a friendly young couple (who kindly took our photo), from New Jersey, USA – celebrating their 10th wedding anniversary, grateful for a break from small children, exploring new shores.

I set out writing this post thinking it would be a contemplative look at aging – perhaps even advice – partially triggered by quotes about such, that I’ve collected from reading women author’s memoirs. Lamenting that I never had a conversation with my Mom – the most influential woman in my life – how the aging process felt for her, I struggled to dig out the story.

Then I discovered a different one. Maybe Mom and I did miss something without this chat, but we had a lifetime of conversations about living. Neither Mom or I brought up the how-to-age topic. We were blessed to live in the same town. We were together often. We didn’t say “I love you!” every time we said good-bye or got off the phone, as this – and a lot of things familiar and dear to us- were ‘a given’ . And nothing had changed.

I watched Mom in and through her aging.

Mom and I when she was seventy.

A couple months shy of eighty Mom died. As family we all felt (and wished) we would have had more years to share life and conversations, but oh so grateful for having received and watched her example of wisdom and love for God and people, a straight-forward attitude, generosity and much more. Thank you, Mom.

About those quotes on aging: I might look at them again someday. Maybe share them.

It’s not lost on me: this is my story and in all our beautiful uniqueness – and bodies – aging isn’t the same for everyone. As goes the mantra from my past holistic health consulting: one ‘plan’ doesn’t fit everyone.

Ready or not – 70’s, here I come. And dear friends, whatever your age and stage, may you feel confident to ‘show up and give it a go’!

Have a wonderful summer.

Love,

Karen