Half a Century

I never thought I’d make it this far. There was once or twice in my life I almost didn’t. I’m so glad I did!

Yes, this is a picture of me at age 3. This explains a lot… like why I still don’t like to wear dresses. Obviously, I never did! This was taken before my biological mother died and was one of the pictures that my father and step- chose to keep from me until I was an adult. (Little did they know, I snuck around in my teens and found the “stash” – pictures of myself and my mother.)

I can remember a black and white television that was 19” and by God, we were lucky to have it! I remember 8-track tapes and mullets (before “Joe Dirt” made them memorable to the younger generation). I remember the Beatles and JFK and getting to stay up late to watch a man walk on the moon. Yes, all in black and white. I remember the “stereo console” that came in the big wooden cabinet (real wood!) with a turntable that my parents played Montovanti and Gleason on during the dinner meals and Nat King Cole at Christmas. I remember an Easy Bake Oven and Barbie and a new blue bicycle under the tree. With baskets. And a bell.

I remember it all. The good and the bad.

Why is it I don’t feel it’s been a half a century? I mean, I can sense time passing when I look at my children and remember them all as little bitty things – which they no longer are – but me? No! Except for the occasional twinge in the back or crackle in the knees, I still feel …oh, at least half this age! I’m not very active, but then – I never was! I still love music and reading and writing and crafts and critters and you … and it goes without saying, my ever-so-loving family. I’m not exactly the same as I used to be – who would want to be? I’m much better now. (My family will understand that comment.) But in my mind? I’m still a kid. I still have lots of things I want to do.

I want another 50 years. ‘kay?