Beware The Ides of March: Turning 66 on 3/15/15
A year ago I was celebrating what I called my best birthday since I turned 21. I bragged about all of the gifts I was receiving at 65. In fact, Social Security, Medicare, and my quarterly annuity checks from my one year of teaching at Tufts are the best birthday gifts I have ever received, and I will be able to enjoy them until I die.
Today, when one of my favorite students surprised me with two birthday gifts (an orchid and a $20 gift card from a local bakery), I was trying to remember the second best birthday gift I had ever received. My parents gave me two birthday parties when I was a child, one at eight and the other at twelve, but I was too young to appreciate the parties or gifts, and I gave myself a thirtieth birthday party at my mother and stepfather's home, but I don't remember any of the gifts that I received. In fact, the party is memorable now only because the two black party guests who attended (the other guests were white graduate school friends) were Gloria Watkins (now known as bell hooks) and her then-boyfriend, 1990's novelist Nate Mackey, who was then a USC professor. Since I wasn't one of those upper-middle-class overly indulged children or adults, I didn't get a car at sixteen or the down payment for a home at twenty-five, so it was easy for me to discover my second best birthday present. It was a surprise 51st birthday party given by my graduate students in an African-American literature seminar; I still have some of the gifts that I received at that party. The former student who dropped by my house today was in that class fifteen years ago.
Turning 66 today is not nearly as much fun as turning 65 was last year. In fact, I believe that 65 was my last great birthday. Even if I manage to reach 100, this redlight woman does not expect to be enjoying life at that age. I will either have lost all of my senses (hearing, sight, smell, taste, and mind), or I will be so tired of living and putting up with fools and foolishness that (like Kirk Douglas in a recent one-man stage performance) I'll be shouting at the Grim Reaper to come and get me.
Still, turning 66 on 3/15/15 is interesting. Last year I warned everyone to carry a four-leaf clover, a rabbit's foot, and/or a cross on this day because I am a witch who could become more powerful with all of those sixes. And during the last week, I have had some indications that my witchlike powers are increasing. Four times I managed to conjure people by thinking or talking about them. Last week I mentioned my former neighbor to my mother, and two days later we saw her in the doctor's office. I hadn't seen her in almost twenty years. Then the next day I saw a friend whom I was planning to call. When I was talking to that friend, I mentioned my niece who lives in San Diego, and shortly after I returned home, she called for the first time in weeks. Finally, on Friday, when I was lunching with a former student who is now a friend, we were discussing charitable work, and I mentioned the actor Sean Penn, focusing specifically on his activities in Haiti and during Katrina. That night (which was Friday the 13th), he was on Bill Maher's show, and they mentioned both Haiti and Katrina.
I said last year I was going to enjoy my first year as a golden senior; I did enjoy my birthday gifts, the fruits of my youthful labor, but the Republicans won in November, and my youthful-looking mother's mind continued to crack (black minds do crack if their faces don't), so the year wasn't as much fun as it should have been. This year I'm not expecting to have fun; I'm just going to try not to hurt anybody with my increased power.
Maybe at 66 the wicked witch of the West will become a good witch, or maybe I'll be especially evil this year and wait until I'm 67 to be good. Whatever happens, it should be an interesting year.
Today, when one of my favorite students surprised me with two birthday gifts (an orchid and a $20 gift card from a local bakery), I was trying to remember the second best birthday gift I had ever received. My parents gave me two birthday parties when I was a child, one at eight and the other at twelve, but I was too young to appreciate the parties or gifts, and I gave myself a thirtieth birthday party at my mother and stepfather's home, but I don't remember any of the gifts that I received. In fact, the party is memorable now only because the two black party guests who attended (the other guests were white graduate school friends) were Gloria Watkins (now known as bell hooks) and her then-boyfriend, 1990's novelist Nate Mackey, who was then a USC professor. Since I wasn't one of those upper-middle-class overly indulged children or adults, I didn't get a car at sixteen or the down payment for a home at twenty-five, so it was easy for me to discover my second best birthday present. It was a surprise 51st birthday party given by my graduate students in an African-American literature seminar; I still have some of the gifts that I received at that party. The former student who dropped by my house today was in that class fifteen years ago.
Turning 66 today is not nearly as much fun as turning 65 was last year. In fact, I believe that 65 was my last great birthday. Even if I manage to reach 100, this redlight woman does not expect to be enjoying life at that age. I will either have lost all of my senses (hearing, sight, smell, taste, and mind), or I will be so tired of living and putting up with fools and foolishness that (like Kirk Douglas in a recent one-man stage performance) I'll be shouting at the Grim Reaper to come and get me.
Still, turning 66 on 3/15/15 is interesting. Last year I warned everyone to carry a four-leaf clover, a rabbit's foot, and/or a cross on this day because I am a witch who could become more powerful with all of those sixes. And during the last week, I have had some indications that my witchlike powers are increasing. Four times I managed to conjure people by thinking or talking about them. Last week I mentioned my former neighbor to my mother, and two days later we saw her in the doctor's office. I hadn't seen her in almost twenty years. Then the next day I saw a friend whom I was planning to call. When I was talking to that friend, I mentioned my niece who lives in San Diego, and shortly after I returned home, she called for the first time in weeks. Finally, on Friday, when I was lunching with a former student who is now a friend, we were discussing charitable work, and I mentioned the actor Sean Penn, focusing specifically on his activities in Haiti and during Katrina. That night (which was Friday the 13th), he was on Bill Maher's show, and they mentioned both Haiti and Katrina.
I said last year I was going to enjoy my first year as a golden senior; I did enjoy my birthday gifts, the fruits of my youthful labor, but the Republicans won in November, and my youthful-looking mother's mind continued to crack (black minds do crack if their faces don't), so the year wasn't as much fun as it should have been. This year I'm not expecting to have fun; I'm just going to try not to hurt anybody with my increased power.
Maybe at 66 the wicked witch of the West will become a good witch, or maybe I'll be especially evil this year and wait until I'm 67 to be good. Whatever happens, it should be an interesting year.
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Thanks for the encouragement, Mara, or are you just trying to stay on my good side so that I won't use my "wicked witch" powers against you? Don't worry; I will continue to "write on" because I certainly recognize the power of words.
I always stay on the good witch side of my favorite profs.
Actually, we have to encourage one another in this "plastic theatre" we are all so much a part of!
Gee, come to think of it, DA me! I learned all about that from YOU!!!!!
Actually, we have to encourage one another in this "plastic theatre" we are all so much a part of!
Gee, come to think of it, DA me! I learned all about that from YOU!!!!!
All of my favorite students are smart enough to stay on my good side and to recognize what's really important.
Talk about strange coincidences...last night I was flipping channels, and there was a whole segmant on Route 66. I never realized the extent of it! I had to laugh...Guess you were up to your old tricks again, or am I psychic, too?
I noticed a Route 66 reference when I was watching television last night too, Mara, although I think mine was just part of a commercial. It made me think that I should take Route 66 for at least a few miles before I turn 67. I think my stepfather took Route 66 when he drove me from the Chicago area to L.A. We went through Oklahoma, Northern Texas, New Mexico, and Northern Arizona. Anyway, at least one of us is a witch.
Don't look at me, Mary! I'm a Psychic! Linguistics, notwithstanding...lol
Definitely,get your kicks on Route 66.
Definitely,get your kicks on Route 66.
Okay, Mara, I told you that I was the witch. You can be the psychic.
Truely, Mary, I agree that there are benefits,in our society,for turning certain ages. I don't dispute that. Losing our senses, and falling apart are Not always inevitable or predictable.
You, who for yourself, has achieved the virtual impossible amount of achievements in our society, should feel somewhat of a super hero. One as a women, and two as a African-American! AND YOU WRITE GREAT LITERATURE TOO! You didn't only TEACH it!
Remember, Life is a journey. Admittedly, a sometimes rocky one. I like to say, "We have to feel comfortable in our bones with it!"
We all need to take steps to reach our particular OZ. Route 66 is as good as any!
And as for the WooWoo perception stuff, just consider yourself GLINDA THE GOOD WITCH.
I know thar writing sharpens our perceptions...even Robert Frost had second hearing of the Other Side!
So sail on down the line, Meres. Walk on by the common thoughts of ageism
Keep that sharp, keen person that you are, and right on, WRITE ON!