Coming of Age

From the time I was a child, I was interested in things that kids out of my age group were into. I was six years old and hanging out with a 12 year old neighbor girl who was hell bent on making sure I didn’t live to see my seventh birthday. She talked me into doing things that could have gotten me seriously injured; such as jumping off the roof of her father’s shed. Another time she put me on the back of her horse, Tony, with no saddle or bridle then slapped him on the rump and sent him running at speeds you might only see at the race track. Tony took me down the bank, across the creek, up the other bank and was doing a dead run across rocky wasteland. I frantically held onto Tony’s mane, crouching low over his back and clung to his sides with my small legs. He showed no signs of slowing down as we were nearing a busy road. But suddenly he seemed to run out of steam and when he slowed I was able to slide off his back onto the ground. (As young as I was, I realized I’d cheated death that day.) Sometimes in the early years I needed to learn things the hard way.

Perhaps it was that experience that taught me it’s better to be a leader than a follower. Likewise though, I learned that it’s not important to get everyone to follow you so long as you know where you want to go.

In my 20’s I wasn’t confident enough in my knowledge about anything to speak with much authority but I always surrounded myself with older friends with more experience than myself in just about everything. I started forming an idea of where I wanted my life to go in my late 20’s and knew that wherever I went in life, writing and photography would be a part of it. But as with many in their 20’s having children and raising families puts our dreams and aspirations on the back burner.

I’d have to say that my 30th birthday was about as bad a birthday as they came. Someone gave me a 30th birthday card that had a character of a woman on the front that looked like a librarian. I thought people would expect me to grow up and I wasn’t really ready to yet. Things started to change for me in my 30’s though. I became more serious minded. I began to have career aspirations. I ran a small press, monthly magazine and was gaining the respect of my peers. That felt good and I wanted more. My writing and photography became the way I gained the approval I craved, but could never get, from my parents.

In my 40’s I learned that gaining the approval of others isn’t the be-all/end-all of life. In fact, I learned that raising a few eyebrows once in a while can be a lot of fun. I learned also that it is a worthless endeavor to try and fit someone else’s mold of what the perfect ME should be. (Oh, I loved my 40’s!) It was in my 40’s that I began to become the combined knowledge of all the older, wiser people I’d spent time with in the past. I learned to love studying by studying only things I enjoy. I don’t know where this lesson came from, but, I learned that I don’t have to put up with crap from anyone. I don’t have to allow anyone to treat me badly. I can speak out loud and long when I feel wronged. I have clearly defined likes and dislikes… my kids think I’m just stubborn or too picky. Perhaps so; but at this age, I couldn’t afford to waste time on what I don’t want.

Now I’m 50. Wow, I can’t imagine being 50 yet. It seems surreal somehow. I still picture me in my 20 year old body, feeling my hot, 20 year old self. It’s really not fair that we just learn how to use all the tools in life and life is over. I know, I’m not dead yet, but dang; I just got the hang of this and I don’t have a lot of time to enjoy it. Is it really any wonder that I get wound up in traffic, ranting and raving for the slow-poke to get out of the fast lane? Don’t they know there’s an old lady on the road trying to get home to enjoy the rest of her life?