Bodacious Boomer

Random folks

I was watching the Today show the other day as I do most days. Cybill Shepherd was a guest. I really enjoy her. I think she’s incredibly funny and has a good outlook on life. She was talking with Hoda Kotb and said something I could relate to. “You know you’re getting old when you start lying about the age of your kids.” I never thought about doing that before. I don’t think that I’m going to start now. However, that sparked a memory from a scene in Two and A Half Men. In it, Evelyn, the grandmother, tells her grandson Jake to lie and tell her friend on the phone that he is 7 years old- when he is actually ten. Is this a common practice and I’m just not with it?

I’ve never lied about my age, not that there’s anything wrong with that. However, unless you’re trying to get a much younger man interested in you, what’s the point? Besides, at my age, a much younger man would already be in his 40’s. Even if you were initially successful in your charade, it  would be exhausting to have to keep it going. You’d have to learn now all the bits of information that they acquired along the way but would be new to you.

All their social references, movies, music, etc., for the most part, would mean nothing to you. I look at People magazine now and I recognize perhaps half of the “celebrities”. (Is it just me or do most of the “up and comings” in Hollywood all look alike?) I really can’t tell most of them apart. Not to mention, unless you’re some type of computer savant, the difference in your level of computer literacy alone would expose your ploy.

You would have to pretend to like their music. Our kids, Brett and Amanda, are 26 and 23 respectively. Occasionally we like the same music. (That usually means they happen to like my “oldies” -from the 50’s and 60’s.)  I even like some of Garth Brooks early CD’s. (I like music you can sing along to.) I love old folk music, Simon and Garfunkle, Peter, Paul and Mary.  We all went to see Mama Mia at the drive-in last summer. Amanda I both really enjoyed it and I got to hear some old ABBA. I didn’t stop growing in the 60’s. I have Thriller.

Kelly Clarkson and John Mayer are OK. What’s not OK is rap. Oh my God. I cannot listen to it. It makes me kinda crazy and some days it’s a short trip to the edge. Brett also listens to- I can’t remember the name- I would call it: Sounds of an Amputation Without Anesthesia or perhaps the flip side: Hysterectomy Without Sedation. It must’ve been a big hit. It seemed he played it endlessly when he still lived at home. When did flat-out screaming become music? He also had some “music” that I had assumed was recorded in Hell. The voice was loud, bass and raspy. It was creepy. Do you really want to have to pretend to like all that just so people think you’re younger? It’s not for me. Life is too short.

When did our age, the actual number, become something to hide, to be ashamed of? I really don’t understand it. I don’t go around with my age plastered all over my T-shirts that’s true and I’m engaged in a war with gravity. (It’s winning.)  I use Olay Regenerist and I color my hair. (It’s not all that gray, but it needs a boost in the shine department. ) Amanda tells me that I’m the vainest person she knows. This because I refuse to grow a unibrow and I color my hair. Of course it’s easy for her to throw stones at me with her gorgeous unlined skin and shiny, luxurious hair. I tell her “Just wait and see and my dear, wait and see.”

I get a kick when I tell somebody how old I am and they are truly surprised. (As we all know you can always spot those who fake their surprise.) Embrace your oldness. I like getting into the movies cheaper, car insurance is way cheaper and I’ve heard that you can even fly cheaper. (Though I’m not there yet.)  Remember you can still walk on the wild side.-Go shopping without your coupons. Nobody is making you have dinner at 4pm. Fight the good battle-eat at 5! Or maybe take a nap in the afternoon, eat at 6 and stay up til 9. You’re a grown up now and you can do whatever you want.

PS. Don’t forget the senior’s BOGO’s at IHOP.

Today Doug gave me a huge bouquet of flowers this morning. They are absolutely beautiful. He didn’t forget! It’s our anniversary- 27 years of (usually) wedded bliss. Of course I didn’t really expect him to forget. He brought it up last night when we were in bed. Also, Amanda called him yesterday and said “What is the date today?” Good for her. He did forget twice in the past. Those were long, grim days. It isn’t that I really expect that much. I do expect him to at least remember though. I’m happy with just some flowers. ( I’m easy to please.) One year he wrote me a 5 page letter. Not really a standard love letter with a bunch of mushy stuff, just telling me the things he loves about me (most of which will go unmentioned here.) He said he even love my Fred Flintstone toes. I have shortish toes each one slightly shorter than the one it’s next to. My toes are tidy. His are long, the second one on each foot longer than the big toe. I suppose they will be handy if he ever needs to climb a tree just using his feet.

As we were laying there last night he said he’s been thinking about why we were still happy after so long when in many ways we are so different. He’s a Yankee, I’m from the South. We both went to the University of Texas at the same time. We even worked at the same restaurant at the same time and never really knew each other.  I know why though. He was a business major, AKA nerd. I was in psychology and art, AKA hippie. He loves watching sports. I like to read. He was raised in an emotionally constipated family. My family was outgoing. His dad was a secret smoker. Both of my parents smoked-everywhere. (I think my mother was smoking when she delivered me.) He never saw his father and mother kiss or have a  fight. My parents had black satin sheets for their bed and had their fair share of “disagreements.”

However, we did have our similarities.  Doug and I were both raised in middle class families. Both of our fathers were engineers. We both attended Sunday school then regular church until we were teens. (Back when people still got dressed up for church.) Neither of our parents ever really sat us down for “the talk.” When Doug was 17 his mom handed him a Dr. Spock book, You and Your Little Body. She said if he had any questions he should ask his father. I think by then he had things pretty much figured out. I got nothing at all and had to learn everything on the streets.

So how did a sports loving, dance hating, emotionally repressed Yankee wind up settling down with a dance loving, outgoing Southern girl who likes to read? I guess like many relationships it was a physical attraction at first. Then over time the other stuff came-the mutual love of cooking, playing raquetball, having a dog lots of dogs- along with two kids. We like crosswords and playing trivia. It seems natural to me to do little things for him like take a snack to our home office for him or hand over the remote. (That’s not really such a little thing.) He does those things for me too. Basically our relationship is pretty much like it was in the beginning with just two exceptions.

The “laser eyes” stage that everyone goes through in the beginning has faded. You know when you only have eyes for each other? It doesn’t matter who else is talking to you, what’s on TV, or if a tornado is in the neighborhood.  You are clueless to your surroundings. Doug didn’t even mention sports the first three weeks we were together. If I get upset about him watching too much sports these days I accuse him of having pulled the old “bait and switch”scam back in ‘82.  Sometimes when we’re out we see a couple holding hands and sitting next to each other in a restaurant. The we look at each other and say “Dating.” Really the only other change is the topography. But time and gravity take their toll on all things. Things change. And in the end all the changes really don’t matter as long as you still enjoy the view.