Wow, I had to double check this. My father is 70. Not 60. I wasn’t sure. I knew it had been a big day (it was a couple months ago) and I remembered making a card that noted it as such, but part of me still wondered if perhaps he’d turned 60, which would put my mom in her upper 50s. But no, they’re both ten years older. It is kind of sad.
Oh, I console myself with the knowledge that our 70s are like what the 60s were for the previous generation, in terms of health and all. But still, 70. Wow.
They’re asking if they can come to visit, perhaps. I suppose they should, or I should, or something. It is all kind of sad, this progression of time.
And a related note — draft of a to-be-added-to blog entry:
Things I miss about my home state
Needham Street’s New England Mobile Book Fair (for its unparalleled overstock selection)
My (parents’) home’s wood floors.
When people have punky hair, they are actually rebelling against a repressive culture (New England was founded by repressed Pilgrims), not just having fun.
Wow I think I’m having a mid-life crisis or something in the similar time-frame (but isn’t a crisis).
It isn’t about politics. (There’s no more politics to be concerned about, anyway — now that Obama won, yay!)
It isn’t about movies. (Much as I love them on disc).
“It”, by the way, is the “purpose or meaning to be found in life”, in case that wasn’t implied strongly enough.
It isn’t about music, although that is richly rewarding (to listen to) and I wouldn’t omit it by any means.
It isn’t about pretty pictures of pretty people (because that can become vapid). (And I am not talking about porn, I mean everything including celebrities — anything that commits style to one form or another is inherently an attempt to commit meaning, when really the meaning is off to the side, not captured by the images at all!)
I think it might be about relationships, again, because that is obvious and seems to be likely. But I won’t commit to that yet because I am interested in seeing what else “it” is not…
(And the other thought that occurred to me, earlier, was “having kids is a way of foisting the problem of the Question on to the next generation to try to figure out!”! I hope that isn’t true, how awful!)
…I think the freedom from having to worry about who is in charge of politics in this country now is as much to “blame” for my mid-life “questioning” as my actual approach to mid-life. But whatever it has been that has prompted this questioning, I feel it now as a question rather keenly. I’ll continue this later.
Oh, one more quick one before I go to sleep: I was thinking, as I was in the bathroom looking at the little carpet below my feet, what I would say if I was asked about how I liked this life (many years from now I hope). I was say that parts of it were OK, a positive sort of OK, not a dismissive sort of OK. And that I quite liked that some creative people (like Joss Whedon) were supported by this culture in such a way that they could share their creativity with the people. I enjoyed that tremendously. I think those were the two strongest comments I could come up with, at the moment. I didn’t press myself to come up with more. Then I went in here (to my room) and started writing this blog entry.