What about a birthday that triggers memories?
While writing this line, do you know the first thing that popped into my mind? (It is really crazy because it was a Christmas, not birthday, gift.) My red and white cowboy girl outfit with the suede fringe, my holster, and pop guns. Does anybody remember those?
It would probably be so politically incorrect today to play Cowboys and Indians like when we were kids. I am not sure why, considering most of the time in my games the Cowboys did not win, and even though Tonto perhaps was an unfortunate name, what would the Lone Ranger have done without his brilliant and brave sidekick? Oh, and I am a huge Tony Hillerman fan.
Those memories lead me to ponder what an amazing time it has been mine to be born in and live.
I’ve seen the first man walk on the moon, the assassination of the youngest and the first Roman Catholic U.S. president to be voted into office, Elvis Presley and the Beatles soar to stardom, the demise of too many actors who were the foundation of Hollywood and the film industry, and experienced Las Vegas growing from a cow town to a bustling metropolis.
The Berlin Wall came down, as did the Twin Towers. The computer age came into fruition, and sports have become a billion-, maybe trillion-dollar business.
The number one song the day I was born was Music! Music! Music! by Theresa Brewer, and on my fifteenth birthday, Stop in the Name of Love by the Supremes. Talk about a difference. Three years ago it was Happy by Pharrell Williams. Now I get why I love that song and him so much. Steve always sends me a Jib-Jab birthday card with that song.
I could go on and on. Literally.
It is an amazing time to be alive. I love it, and I hate it.
I love it because of all the things I mentioned above. Of witnessing so many amazing things that when I was born might have only existed in someone’s imagination. Plus, I am a mom three times over and have five amazing grandchildren. God gave me the perfect husband for the life he had in mind and sent us off on an adventure that has lasted more than forty years. It’s been quite a ride!
And I hate it because while I don’t hold that the 1950s or 1960s were “the good ole days”, or perfect, by any stretch of the imagination, the moral fiber of the of the family and society seemed to be more intact than now. That saddens me. And even though my parents did divorce, it was rare and not a fear I lived with like so many children today. Back then, nobody thought about prohibiting you to pray or read the Bible or salute the flag. This always weighs on my heart. At the same time, we had strict rules to adhere to (some pretty ridiculous) and all very much had to do with social norms and acceptance. I didn’t balk a lot then, but I would now.
On a personal level, I just want to state that getting older is so much better than I had anticipated. Seriously. When I was a teenager, I figured that by my sixty-seventh birthday I would be a crotchety old lady. If I were even alive. I am far from crotchety, if I do say so myself.
I am thrilled that I am still alive.
I am excited about what God still has in store for me. I don’t like the term Golden Years. Not sure why. Probably because I feel like it crams me into a category. Like being called a senior. But, I have to tell you the discounts are awesome.
I still feel happy and hopeful and pray God will use me up to my very last minute here on earth. May this white-haired, non-crotchety, still vital sixty-seven-year-old senior live out her days to His glory!