Turning 59

Tomorrow I will turn 59. I’m sure everyone who is, was or is going to be 59 will say the same thing,  just when did this happen? While I was busy doing my life, somehow I grew older. I was talking to my 84 year Mother who was doing her usual complaining about the kids (mine in general and my grand kids, which are her great grand children), never calling and not interested in her life’s work of compiling our genealogy. This took me back. Way back to when I was young. I told her that she was old. To these KIDS she’s very old and I’m just old. They are busy being important in their own lives, building their empires and concurring their own demons. We aren't important to them in the way that she wants to be important to everyone.

When I got home I sat and gave this some deep thought. When I was five I had already known that my Mother needed a lot of attention and that guilt was her mode of manipulation. At 84 she still hasn’t made much headway into overcoming or even wanting to overcome her issues. But at 5 I knew this wasn’t how I wanted to be. And my grandparents were really old to me when I was five.  At 16 nothing had changed with my Mother, but I had become close to my paternal Grandmother. I enjoyed her when I saw her, but it never occurred to me to call her to just talk. She was in her 60’s and really old. Also, even though she lived just an hour and a half away from me it felt very far. We paid for our long distance then and it was expensive and letters were the mode of communication. We visited her once in a while and had everyone together during the holidays, but I didn’t ever feel that I was letting her down if I didn’t call or write her to say hi. My other grandmother was a pain, clearly didn’t have the time of day for me so there was less interest in her.

My deep thought was the usual:  Is my thinking on whatever issue I’m dealing with at the time, correct. I have this habit of checking myself daily. I try to put myself in their shoes. After all, I’m only going to be 59 and my Mother is 84. I have no idea how 84 feels like and I would never assume to understand without having first hand experience with anything.

Because of my childhood, I made a concerted effort to not do guilt on my kids and to always make them feel that they were important. Not that I didn’t want them to understand that I had value, too, but I didn’t want them to have the same emotional baggage that I lived with daily. I’m sure I failed often, but because of the subtle deep lessons learned from my parents, it never occurred to me to encourage my kids to call their grandparents. If they were with me during a holiday and away from them, we would all gather around the phone and say our happy’s to each other, but that was it. So for her now to want something that she didn’t teach me to do or do herself was interesting to me. My bad.

This is what I’ve learned so far on this issue. Guilt doesn’t feel good. Age is relative. Never assume anything. Live in the moment. And 59 looks different when you’re 5, 16 , 59 and 84.

I don’t feel what 59 looked like when I was a child. I don’t feel old. On the other hand, I do want the respect that being 59 should give me. And the good news is that my grand kids do call me because they want to talk to me. We have fun, share secrets and once in a while I’m allowed to give some wise advice. It’s not as if I expect them to follow it, but I do know that if the seed is planted there may come a day when they do get it and remember me because I’m sure I’ll be gone from this world then and that would be what I want to leave them with. Wisdom from an old lady that loved them enough to share some wisdom from a life lived. But I’m not done yet.

In my parent’s generation being 59 meant getting close to retirement. Now a days retirement is a luxury that a lot of us aren’t going to experience. For me, it’s never been an option. I’m a painter. To most I’m already retired. Doing what you love is considered a luxury and I do get it. I feel completely spoiled and luxurious every time I sit in front of my easel. The difference is that I’m still actively trying to sell my work. It’s not a hobby for me. It’s a full time job. As in everything else, times are a changin’. Twenty years ago we could pay around $100.00 for our space fee and set up our Easy Ups and grids and sell our paintings at art shows. And they actually sold. Today the game is completely different. If you aren’t up with technology you’re out of the game. That is unless you’ve already made it to the big tent and have someone else doing your bidding for you. Space fees have gone up way beyond my means. Galleries have closed and the ones still opened are full. But I’m an optimist. I got that from my Dad. He’s 87 now and very old.

This is enough of me for now, but later I want to talk about what I’ve learned about who I am and how I didn’t fit in China.