Last Friday, my husband and I went to the Mule Days craft fair/flee market/and exhibitions. We sat with food truck burgers to watch the rodeo clown show.
I was expecting several “guys” dressed in rodeo clown outfits and showing off the complete skills of the rodeo clowns. Uh, no. One clown. One mule. One set of tricks and jokes. The guy was good and entertaining and informative. Yes, I learned a few things about rounding up mules.
But some of the guy’s opening lines were an age slap in the face. “Let’s hear from everyone who is over 60.” Not to loud a cheer. Understandable: most people were under 50 if not under 40; many people over 60 are too classy to cheer like that.
The clown’s response was that they must not have heard what he was asking. Uh, no.
But to note, he got me thinking about what people think about age.
When I turned 50, a group of people I went to college with got together to celebrate our birthdays. The night was a drag. They talked about their disappointing lives, up-coming medical tests, the stress in their job, – in general, nothing happy. I called my best friend from the group (The one who I had kept in touch with all these years.) and asked her what she thought about the evening. (She gets together with the rest of them on a more regular base.) She told me that it’s the same thing every time they get together. (NOTE: My best friend is anything but a drag.)
When I was still teaching, students would ask my age early in the fall, especially if I was teaching freshman. I would always have to stop, think of the current date, and compare it to my birth date. You see, I’ve never really felt my age.
Last year I celebrated the birthday that corresponds with the last two digits of the year I was born. By the time you are 31, you have celebrated your golden birthday: The birthday that corresponds with the date in the month that you were born. There is nothing, however, to celebrate the celebration of the birthday that corresponds with the year. Last year I turned 58; I was born in 1958.
Do I feel old? Sometimes, but rarely. I try to embrace the day with the wonderment of a child. For example, every time I see nature emerge from its winter rest, I am in awe.
My husband and I occasionally play catch with the play balls at department stores.
You see, I don’t think about my age. I think about how I feel, how I see the world, and what things I want to do and try.
For my 58th birthday, I sang at the top of my lungs at a Blake Shelton concert in Nashville.
In February this year, my husband and I learned to kayak. I have numerous things I want to do on my bucket list: I want to go zip lining. I want to dive the Great Barrier Reef. I want to . . .
I turn up the music and dance while I am cleaning house. I sing at the top of my lungs when I am alone in the car.
All of this helps to make me feel young.
What do you do to make you feel young? Please take a moment and share in the comments.