Thoughts on being Five

Five...just before six, way after four....Fifty-Five can be the new Five today. Don't know if it was like this for anyone else, but at five discovery was still unbridled by stoicism, I was young enough to slip under the radar of society's bigger expectations, and fantasy was permitted.

Growing up is okay, to use the Lazy Boy slogan, "it's what we do." But does it really mean we have to loose that sense of wonder, that ability to see our dreams and believe that at least some of them can come true?

A friend died recently, well several have through the years but this death will serve as the final catalyst for the thought. Anyway, this friend took every monent and lived it....was active until shortly before the end and at 85 or so was fulfilled, albeit a little crotchety, and still able to keep that gizmo going in his head that allowed for childhood regardless of age.

That doesn't mean he ran around in beanie copter hats and short pants....he did something we are all capable of doing if we only do it. He allowed life to be a daily exploration. He stopped to smell the roses.

What he left behind, besides the incredible legacy of his philosophy, is a very simple lesson.
Explore and Enjoy.

So for today, for the moment anyway, Fifty Five is the new Five....now where are my fingerpaints?

Parade 2010

Here we are, the first day of the year 2010....i wonder what's ahead.
The past few years have been incredible, challenging, depressing yet joyous, fulfilling and frustrating....sounds a lot like life, eh?  
So as the Rose Bowl Parade wends its way down the street in Pasadena, I sit with my steaming mug of coffee; Jack is still sleeping....my thoughts are free to wander.

My traditional Rose Bowl Parade viewing began years ago....when I was a little girl and the images were grainy, black and white and seemed far away. But they felt personal to me; like they were a part of my family because after all, Dad was a florist. And to me in some sort of way that made him part of all that....at least to me.

As a kid I imagined what it might be like to work with the giant floats...gluing on the individual flower petals, seeds, twigs and other vegetative matter.  I imagined the smell coming from those huge workshops as a combination of farmers' market meets glue factory, and that by the end of working on one of those things a person could be fairly covered in the stuff...like some poor tar-and-feathered fella from bygone days.

Years later, Diane and I almost got to work on them when we were living in L.A., but she couldn't get out of work.  As luck would have it we did meet some of the float volunteers and they described it kind of like I'd imagined. 

That was back in the '80s.  It's 2010 now and San Francisco is fairly far away from the parade grounds, but through imagination and memory....and of course the t.v., Pasadena's Rose Parade beauty spreads before me like a royal garden before a queen.

I know the world's going to hell in a hand basket.  I know the economy sucks and everybody hates everybody else.  Fine.  But for a few moments I'm going to put all that aside and celebrate the fact that we humans know how to create something other than discord, violence, injustice and war.

We know how to create beauty.  And that is a redeeming quality.

So for today, the first day of 2010, Fifty five is the New Parade 2010....a parade of life and splendor.


 

Double Nickles, New Years' Eve and The God Particle

Fifty five is the new....I could go easy on myself and say "The New Year," but no. I do have some points to raise, and a question or two. So for today, Fifty Five is the new Question.

Tomorrow begins a new year on the Judeo-Christian calendar. Civilization is older than the 2010 years being plastered and printed on everything from legal documents to newspapers. It is funny how we humans are able to do that...bend time to suit our needs.

While it is up for debate, most scientists feel that the universe is some 13 trillion or more years (I don't have a real count-where is Stephen Hawking when you need him). They are still searching for the God Particle, but then again in one way or another aren't we all?
Some go to church others to a lab....some just go out into life and see it all around them.
All of these are valid ways of seeking and I'm not going to argue the point. A person's path is an individual choice.

But when it comes to facts I'll take scientists. I'm prone to go along with those folks, their telescopes are waaaay bigger than my Radio Shack desktop window-peeker. And I believe that these people were created by the same energy or force that made everything and everyone else.
Their hunger for knowledge is akin to the hunger for the spirit.

I question is the perceived conflict between science and faith. Note I didn't say religion.
Religion is what people do, Faith is who they are.

Physics can be seen as prayer, the Rosary can be seen as an equation.
Anyway, my question to the cosmos...to anyone or anything who might read this...
Scientist and Seeker examine the following and explain it according to your belief.
"As it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be."

So for today, Double Nickles, onward to the New! Happy New Year!

Ramblings Of A Twelve Year Old Hippie

Fifty Five is the new....well, today I'm going to say "the new twelve" because at twelve years of age my life was changing tremendously fast. I made a lot of decisions which impact me to this present day, including the name I chose.
Perhaps some will disagree but I think it might be good if a person could name themselves at a certain age....you know, shed the temporary name, suppositions and lables given by parents and family....kind of like a Bar or Baz Mitzpha (sp?). "Today I am."
It certainly enabled me to distinguish between preset notions and my own interpretation of life. Of course, I may have made bigger mistakes because I didn't have the "family honor" to defend with every action. That was convenient. It did make mother angry, which is probably only natural. Most people only change their first name. I opted for a complete make-over.
But, that's what was needed. A complete overhaul.
So for today Fifty Five is the new Twelve.
And who says you can't travel back in time?

The New Age

Not too many years ago, the thought of turning fifty-five, let alone forty-anything was a fleeting, far off thing.   Oh, the mirror was doing its best to remind me that the calendar was doing it's thing. But for the most part, I felt in fine fettle, albeit a few wisps of grey here and there. Jack loved me, (still does)...all was right with the world. Besides, he was grey-ish as well and seemed happy going through his fifties in my company.
Fifty came in for me with a bang, I was volunteering at a place I loved...they threw a party. I felt warm and special. The organization specialized in being a kind of day care center for low and no-income seniors and disabled adults.  We hosted activities like Open Mic, Jack taught Guitar, we held weekly Bingo and Writer's Group, and offered services like Peer Counseling, Support Groups and Community Volunteer Opportunities.  Working there gave me purpose, focus and drive. There was a reason for waking up in the morning...even if there were a few managerial sleepless nights.
When I hit fifty-three it hit me back with a SLAM! Our beloved center was forced  to close, after 81/2 years of daily interaction with our group of mostly senior and near-seniors.  There still aren't enough words to explain it or express it to anyone who wasn't there.  Tsunami comes close...almost. We closed on 2/29/08, so I'll only have to see the date every four years... so there's a mercy.
It was heartbreaking, watching our patients and staff suffer through the closure, everyone frantic with last-minute, impossible ideas, scrambling to find alternatives to the resources and services that had been available on a daily basis for a few hundred people who'd become a close-knit, family-oriented community. Jack and I played at the final gathering, along with all the Open Mic regulars.  After everyone left, we packed what was left then looked around before walking away.  The place still echoed of everything that ever happened there...it was surreal, locking that door for the last time...again, there are no words.
Fortunately an other facility stepped forward,willing to open their doors. They were able duplicate some groups, including maintaining the original facilitators, and even incorporate other staff members into their own team. So it all ended up for the best, in that regard. There were some wrinkles to iron out, but at least for the patients' sake,  the lifeboats were filled and launched long before the water rose.
But I was, personally, exhausted.  For a short while, I floundered. Within weeks of the Center closing, my dearest friend passed away. We knew it was coming, but....In all honesty, it was deer-in-the-headlights for about a dozen weeks or so.   Jack did his best to help me through, even though he was exhausted too.
When I finally came-to, the year was just about gone, leaving few more bumps in the road for me to enjoy over the holidays. You know, mini-hells...nobody needs to go into detail, everybody sees the battle scars.
Suffice to say if those months were surfing, I'd done Mavericks...twice.
So then sixty came along for Jack and fifty-four came along for me, and even though things didn't get a lot easier, they seemed to be less of a drama, more of a dramatic comedy...Garbo was out, except for the occasional I vant-to-be-aloooone  we'd each get once in a while.  Heck, after living through grim and grizzly, anything was an improvement.
Jack has had his share of ware and tear through the years, not to be out done. He's more the quiet-type when it comes to things like that, but you don't have to jump in a river to know how deep it runs. Just listen to him sing something like "Momma Hated Diesels." That just about sums it up.
Anyway, collectively we've been through it...just like anybody else....and survived by the skin of our remaining teeth. Stronger, at least mentally at any rate; maybe not ready for the deep end, but definitely in the mood for getting into the pool. That's how we felt at first.
That changed pretty quickly though...the deep end looked fun! That's where they keep all the diving boards!
So.......that's where we are now...on the diving board, grinning like Cheshires.  The muse is calling and we, at long last, have the time to heed the call.
Music, art, song writing, making videos and recordings and computer graphics have been, up to this point, simply back-burner talents...pulled out and used at a moments notice then sent back to the wood shed 'til next opportunity. Jack, who's been a supportive friend, confidante, critic, teacher and paramour through all this craziness has also been my artistic collaborator. He's a fantastic guitarist, songwriter and performer in his own right.  Together, we seem to have something people like, and something we believe in too.
We had a long talk and decided to bring our talents to the foreground, go out there into the world of internet, music, and all the rest and take our turn at bat. Even at our age.
So, here were are....Jack is sixty, just turned this past November. I'm going on fifty-five this April, and we're willing to take on this brand new venture. Some people may think we're crazy, and that's okay. At least we're doing something we believe in.  If we get no where or if we get anywhere at all there's one thing for sure, it's going to be an interesting ride...wherever the road takes us.
So for tonight, Fifty Five Is The New Age....as in aging is not a dilemma, it's an experience. That's what we believe, that's what we're going to do. And that's what this blog is all about.

Beginnings

Normally I don't talk about myself but feel a need to make changes, jump into life instead of being on the sidelines and anybody out there who wishes to read this is welcome to come along on a journey of discovery.

I won't promise to be a daily blogger. Won't promise to be an internet maven or anything, but will promise to be me...the me that I am and the me I am becoming.

Fifty Five is the new...the new what? Some folks have told me it's the new Twenty-Five. If that's so, I hope to do better this time around! Then again...if 55 is the new 25, then 25 would be the new what? Hmmmmm.

Anyway the coming year brings my 55th birthday, April 14th- the anniversary of the day Lincoln was shot and the Titanic hit the ice berg. So then I come along...go figure. What may be reassuring is the fact that neither Mr. Lincoln nor that Regal Ship met their actual demise until the following day, albeit only hours after the calendar page was turned.
Granted, the events of April 15th wouldn't have occurred without those of April 14th taking place first, but I had nothing to do with either situation (and very little to do with the chosing of my own natal day).

My life has not been easy but it has been interesting. I've travelled, had miracles and dreams come true and lived through my share of nightmares, been lower than a snake's belly and higher than the space shuttle, ridden in limos and boxcars, drank myself under the table and dragged myself out from under a few bad habits....given birth, known death, cried 'til I laughed and laughed 'til I cried....you know, I've lived, just like everybody else.

Like everybody else, I'm trying to keep it together in an economy that is barely doing the same. I have been disabled since 1980, and am continuing to try to get out of poverty through whatever talents and abilities are available to me. Sometimes the magic works, sometimes it doesn't. My hope is that through computers and the internet, my work can get "out there." There must be a million of us "out there" already, so what's one more dreamer?