After she named all the colors of the various dots on the ice cream window (blue, red, orange, green, and purple), I told her parents that she was adorable. I asked her, “How old are you?”
She held three fingers up.
“Wow, you know all of your colors and you jump so high and you’re only three?”
She nodded yes. Not proud, not shy, just being factual.
“My name is Daisy. What is your name?” Her voice was a shiny bell.
“Caroline.”
“How old are you?”
Her parents and I laughed.
“A LOT older than you!”
Her brows furrowed and she asked, “Why can’t you tell me?”
And I realized that I have bought into it hook, line and sinker*. Why was I being coy about my age? Because I’m a woman? Because 49 is old?
“I’m 49.”
She turned to her ice cream, satisfied. Not judgmental. Not shocked. Simply satisfied.
I watched her spoon blue ice cream into her mouth.
And I thought, I’m 49. I’m not proud, not shy, just factual.
Photo by Alex HarveyShe sat across from me at her birthday dinner. She just turned 35. I am almost 49.
“I have laugh lines! I am getting gray hairs that stick straight up on end!”
“Well, it just makes it easier to pluck them out,” I said, trying to cheer her up.
“I am not going to complain about getting old. I LOVE aging!”
I looked at her sideways. This was unexpected. Who loves aging?
She explained, “We’re lucky to get old. Not everyone does. We should celebrate getting older, we’re so fortunate to keep living!”
Indeed.
I’ve decided that even though I live in America, where it is becoming a crime to be gay, trans, Mexican-American, Muslim or old, I hope we will eventually be like Taiwan when it comes to social issues. I’m not gay, but as an Asian-American, I know what discrimination feels like. In Taiwan, gays have equal rights. The Taiwanese also respect their elders and take care of them. So I’m going to walk around proud in all my Asian and old glory because I know I’m lucky to be alive and kicking.
How happy are you? Your age might be correlated to the level of your happiness. And acceptance might be the key to joy.
According to a study by Nielsen, people ages 18-21 are pretty happy, but the level of self-reported well-being goes on a decline until it hits rock bottom at age 50-53. This is due, in part, because people in this age bracket are preoccupied with money concerns: kids’ college tuition and their own retirement funds. But then, the level of contentment goes up on a steady trajectory for a high into the eighties. The reason?
As people age, they accept their aging. THIS is the key to contentment.
Perhaps we should all accept our present condition, no matter the age? Wouldn’t this naturally lead to more joy?
I met my husband at a party. He made me laugh with his amazing ability to do impressions of famous people. He could do perfect Irish accents. On one of our dates to an Irish bar in San Francisco, we met a couple Irish tourists. Willey spoke to them with an Irish brogue and they asked him which part of Ireland he was from!
It’s 22+ years later:
22 years is a long time. Nights at bars gave way to babies, cancer (and recovery), school activities, music lessons, mortgages, bills and retirement plans. The impressions and carefree days faded away. We had have responsibilities.
I threw my husband a surprise birthday party for his 50th last night.
Relatives and friends flew in from out of state. Local friends attended the party. We had a great time. One of our guests was from Australia. Suddenly, Willey was from the Outback, talking like the Crocodile Hunter. We all gathered around him, laughing. And I saw him. I saw us.
I saw our future, our hopes, our dreams, our joy.
And it all came true: We have a home, dear friends and family, beautiful children.
When life is ebbing instead of flowing, remember the high tide. Remember what made you fall in love. It’s always there.
The hippocampus in our brains is responsible for our learning, our emotions and our memory. As we age, we get concerned about its health.
We’ve known exercise is good for the brain, because studies have shown that exercise pumps blood throughout our gray matter, improving mood and thinking.
But which type of exercise is best?
Aerobics?
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Weight-lifting?
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High intensity interval training?
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It’s sustained aerobics!
According to Mindful.com, an experiment on lab mice in Finland showed definitively, that sustained aerobics produced the most neurogenesis.
Weightlifting is great for your muscles (and aging). High intensity interval training is excellent for calorie burning and aesthetics. But aerobic exercise is excellent for the brain. Whatever your fitness routine, don’t skip your spinning (or slimnastics or dancing or kickboxing classes)!
Yesterday was a busy day. In addition to a full day at school, my daughters had an orchestra rehearsal which ran from 6:30 – 8:30pm an hour away from home. This requires planning of dinner, commute and homework.
Our two teenagers are more interested in snapping and editing selfies than looking out the window or talking to us, their parents. They read their instant messages and scroll Instragram. They laugh and trade one-liners that I don’t understand. I’m not privvy to their virtual world. When I try to understand and ask questions, I am met with sighs and sarcasm. I’ve learned how to adapt: I basically talk to myself every morning or sing to the radio as I drop one off to high school and take the other one to work/school. At 13 and 14, my daughters are physically beautiful specimens – fortunate with the gene pool (1/2 Korean, 1/2 German-Scottish-French). They are blissfully ignorant of their luck in aesthetics and parents. Heck, they totally take it for granted. They take everything for granted.
I’m (nearly) 48. I take care of myself and exercise regularly. But my Morning Mirror Time is a fraction of theirs. I apply light makeup and give my hair a quick brush in a matter of 5 minutes. Literally. I just can’t be bothered. Yet, I consider myself above average in appearance. You can tell I was once very pretty, just by looking at me.
In any case, I’m a teacher and I dress for the job. I have a very comfortable dress, v-neck, that goes just below my knees. Here it is:
It looks better on.
I bought it at a boutique shop near my house. The salesperson ooh’d and aah’d when I modeled it for her. I thought maybe I looked a little frumpy. No, she said, you look perfect. I have not had anyone ooh or aah in several years despite my augmentation following breast cancer surgery 6 years ago. Cancer gave me the chest of my dreams: from 34A to 34C.
Well, I wore this dress yesterday. All day. I’ve worn this dress at least 10 times before for various occasions. No one has complimented me, but that’s OK. I don’t need compliments. I’m almost 50 for Pete’s sake. I don’t dress for others, I dress for ME!
My daughters and I were eating dinner before their Phoenix Youth Symphony rehearsal. Food that I ordered by phone. Food that I ordered and picked up and brought to them, lovingly. As I got up to throw trash away, the 14 year old sighed heavily while eyeing my dress.
“What?” I looked to see if there were food stains on it.
Another sigh. Exceptionally heavy. “Mom, I just wish…I just wish you’d wear something….better.”
Suddenly, she gets all Tim Gunn on me. Really? I’ve worked all day with 90+ students. Attended an IEP meeting before school started. Ordered food with my bare hands…and now this? I expect her to follow it with (in gay voice), “It doesn’t even work conceptually.”
“Why do you say this to me AFTER I’ve worn it all day?”
She looks up at her father who has just entered the room. As usual, she completely disregards my question, my feelings.
“What’s going on?” He asks.
“Mom’s dress.”
All three give me a hard look. Tim Gunn, Heidi Klum and Michael Kors, all are staring at me. Judging me. I feel bloated.
Tim speaks.
“Her dress, it looks like a Powerpoint.”
All concur.
I drive home. My hands, gripping the wheel, smell like Greek chicken and tzaziki sauce.
Goodness. Sad state of affairs when having our laptop go out of commission completely blindsides your blog! On top of getting the computer up and running (a complete overhaul was necessary, lost all work), I could not remember my password! But here I am.
Making nice progress on the novel. I visualize it as a movie, which is different for me. I did not write the 300 words today. Somehow, the gym workout always wins over sitting and writing. Being in good physical shape helps me alleviate stress, which is #1 for me and my loved ones!
Went to a 6 year old’s birthday party today. Bowling. 6 year olds have a knack for bowling in slow motion. Amazing. Even they get bored watching the ball roll slowly toward the pins. They look away for awhile and then the adults say, “Look! Look!” just in time to watch the ball mysteriously roll AROUND the pins. Then there is the cake and opening of gifts. Claude loves Star Wars. We had a heck of a time shopping for a boy. What do they like?! You could buy a girl her 90th Barbie and she’d be happy…anything pink and shiny. But boys….trucks? Action figures? We settled on Star Wars Legos.
Celebrations remind us of milestones. I could not help but think that little kid birthdays could be celebrated within the family alone. I mean, we don’t really know all these people, I don’t even know Claude. Will Claude remember this birthday? When he’s 18 and looking at his Birthday Pin, signed with all the names of children who attended his 6th birthday, will he remember any? What will he feel?
Willey and I will celebrate our 12th anniversary this year. Maggie turns 9 in August. Supposedly, labs have a life expectancy of 10-12 years. Looking at Maggie, she looks to be at the top of her game. I refuse to believe she will pass within the next 4 years. Impossible! Ava is about to turn 6. I received a “Kindergarten registration” form from the school and was happy to toss it. We’re over that hump! But there is sweet sadness to it all too. They are so innocent and funny. They hug me indiscriminantly. I pick them up after school and they scream “Mommy!” with wild abandon.I hope above all else that Willey and I will always enjoy a close relationship with them. I don’t want them to shut us out with electronics and slamming doors. I dream of visiting them in college and taking them out for luxurious lunches, getting our nails done, etc. I hope!
This year, we had JiMin with us. What a wonderful, rich experience it has been. We have only one month left and there are so many things I still want to ask her and share with her. We will all feel the loss come June 5th. Her presence and the issues that have arisen from her visit are the direct inspiration for my story. Still, she never exhibited the rebellion I’ve heard of other students displaying: smoking, drugs, drinking, sex, or skipping school. Through tears, frustrations and tons of laughter, we have met our expectations and then shot right through them.
Kismet 