Sixty. Yup. I’m Getting Up There!

60: (January 2018)

I don’t get freaked out by age, by entering into another decade. Frankly, I’m thrilled that I made it. My dad, who died at age 57, was not so fortunate. So I view each day as the gift that it is. I might remember that I’ve been given that gift for about 10 seconds each morning, shortly before I roll out of bed. But 10 seconds is 10 seconds.

Gratitude is something I’ve thought a lot about over the years. It seems to me to be the key to life. If you can find something to feel thankful about, well, life seems to fall into perspective more. It’s harder to complain when you’re feeling grateful. It’s harder to worry. Basically, gratitude counteracts the bad stuff. Gratitude is grounding, calming. Life can be full of challenges, but if you can scrape up a few things to feel thankful about, you’ll be OK.

But right now, I feel like I have a ton of things to feel thankful for. I am launching into my sixties with a very rich community of friends – here in rural New Hampshire, as well as childhood through college friends scattered throughout the country. These friends have been journeying through life with and alongside of me as we traverse various stages and cross milestones together. I cannot adequately express my love and gratitude for them.

And then there’s family, both my family of origin, and my own family. My two daughters are wholly woven into my heart and soul, now grown women adventuring through life with courage and creativity. Then there is my brand new husband. Yes, after a heartbreaking divorce in my 40s, I took the plunge seven months ago and married a man who is so kind, and who I laugh with for such a ridiculously large percentage of the time that my heart virtually gushes with gratitude and love for him. And to top it off, two spectacular grown children, married to two equally spectacular spouses came with my husband, making our family one big bunch of happiness. If I begin to write about the grandchild and the other one on the way, I will become an utter sap, so I’ll stop there.

My mother, sister and brother and their families continue to enrich my life. Sometimes I can take them for granted because they’ve always been there, just a part of who I am. My brother had a heart attack last summer, which was taken care of quickly and he has recovered, but that scare surely made me realize the depth of emotion I have. My family is bound up within me, and I am so lucky to have them in my life.

I know life can’t always be charmed. But right now, that’s the phase I’m in. I’m not sure I fully realized that until I sat down to write this. That’s the beauty of pausing long enough to reflect on life.

Take time to be thankful. You may realize how blessed you are.

40: (January 1998)

It was a big box, sent by a good friend from college days to celebrate my 40^th birthday. I opened the box right after breakfast on the big day. It was filled with an assortment of fun gifts: elegant leather gloves in an unusual shade of violet, a fanciful candle in the shape of a hippopotamus, a decorative bowl from Kenya, and my favorite—a book of blank music pages, waiting to be filled with musical creations originating at my piano. My dream, my passion, my continuously frustrated drive is to create music.

My friend knew. A friend for more than 20 years, she knew my heart’s desire, and she kindled its flame. I wept as I read the dedication she wrote on the inside cover of the pristine book: “Dedicated to all who play the chord.”

I learned “the chord” while volunteering in a psychiatric ward during a semester in college. An old man, a patient in the ward, sat at the piano in the day room of the hospital as I watched and listened in complete fascination. He played sounds I never knew existed. I don’t know what psychological torments led him to be hospitalized, but when he played the piano, he was somewhere else in spirit. Uninvited, I went with him, transfixed by the sound, silently memorizing the odd configuration of notes that made it possible.

I have carried the chord with me ever since. It has become a symbol of my soul’s yearning to make my spirit fly, as he did. Alas, my musical skill and my efforts have been muted, yet the longing burns on. I feel profoundly grateful to have a friend who recognizes what speaks to my innermost self, a friend who cares enough to fan the embers. Though separated by hundreds of miles since college, our lives have continued to intertwine and energize each other. In a sense, our friendship has become the chord; an ongoing improvisation that transports the spirit. Now if I can only translate that into sound.

60-40:

That friend is indeed still a very important part of my life. I’m sure her encouragement of the music in me helped me to compose the songs I’ve written in the past two decades. I produced two CDs of original songs since then and have written many others. More importantly, a deep friend encourages you to be more yourself — to be true to who you are, whatever that may be. And for that, what can I say? I’m grateful! 🙂