Me thinks, life affords us the following cycle:

Play… (Kid)

Educate/party… (Youth)

Work and play, get on ladder.. (Young adult)

Two eyeballs on kids.. help kids work/play, climb that ladder. (Young Parent)

Work, more ladder goodies, one eye on kids…. (Middle aged parent)

The now.. (Fitty-something/soon, sixty-something)… All those other cycles were wonderful, truly. I loved ‘play’. Grew up in a town where that could safely be done – anywhere. I enjoyed the next phase (educate/party) so much, I invested six years in attaining my undergraduate degree!

Being a young parent literally rocked. An opportunity, kinda-sorta, to relive your own childhood – yet, definitely embellished by the vibrancy of a child’s smile.

Middle age parent, at least for me, is when “S” hit the fan in Family – yet still, a nice era. Many, many wonderful co-workers/lifetime friends made in this era.

The now.. ahhh yes… There is no more worrying about the damn ladder.. in fact, we can stop upon it, look out and suckup the view. Aging is synonymous with appreciation. Sitting in Mickey D’s three booths over from a young hubby/wife with a toddler, one a head taller, and yet another a head taller gives us the shivers in reminding us of the work that involved – a smile for the fun that it was, and a “whew” for the “glad that’s not me!”

The Rolling Stones. Huh? Yeah, them. It’s one thing, for me, in the now that I really stop, listen, appreciate, absorb. (And virtually any classic rock artist.) Life, prior to 50, is all-about-hurry. No rose smelling. Play. School. Job. Raising family. The now: hell yeah baby, I get to remember all that, but sorry, this is ME time! Crank that sucker!

Highway time. I work 31 miles from home. Some think that’s ludicrous. Nomme. I enjoy it. It’s time for reflection. Thinking. Emoting. Enjoying.

Food. Huh? Yeah, food. As a child, lunch meant “Do I haveta? I’m up to bat next!” Older kid, cafeteria style, or buddy bringing bagga burgers back from drive in. Young adult, food/hurry. Work to do, play to be had. Parent: food/chore. Have to. Quick. Plan. Oh hell, we’re outta ___, gotta run to the store.

Not now. Food now – enjoy. Succulent. No hurry – let’s indulge. Sample. Treat. Yummy. Back then, we’d drive to wherever was the closest drive-in eatery simply due to time, other things to do. Now, by golly, if we wanna drive 27 miles to sample that little family joint that makes the yummiest lasagna, we’re gonna do it. (And, have highway time, mebbe the Rolling Stones inbetween!). No “hurry, other things to do”, now, it’s “THE thing to do.”

Fitty-something is the “if I’da known then what I know now” age – and please know I don’t mean that like I’m some scholarly saint. I mean that like “wow.. I really enjoyed all those years, stages…appreciate ‘em.. but, perhaps don’t appreciate them as much as I do this stage/age, and it’s probably BECAUSE OF THEM I enjoy this age so much.”

Somea these stolen, sorry, likes ‘em nonetheless.. some diddies learned by age fitty-something:

You don’t have to win every argument..
Life isn’t fair, but it’s still good..
Don't take yourself so seriously. No one else does….
It's OK to get angry with God. He can take it….
It's OK to let your children see you cry….
The most important sex organ is the brain.
Growing old beats the alternative dying young.
Those who matter don't judge me....those who judge me don't matter.
It's never too late to have a happy childhood. But the second one is up to you and no one else.

Rambling. Sorry. I find that we, at age fitty-something, do that. Got this nasty habit of listening to The Stones on the highway to work, shortly after the scrumptious breakfast of my choice. Get here, an hour early, staring out from the ladder. Fingers gravitate to keyboard. I can’t stop ‘em. Ceptin’ for maybe bathroom urges at this age, second strongest urge.

Let’s urge us all to get on, continue to enjoy this page of our life. I know I planta continue doing so. Until the day I pee my pants and forget my name, Love, Victurd.