Living Young

This morning I had a comment from cameo that led me to some interesting ponderments (Isn't that a wonderful word? Betcha thought I made it up, but no, it's a real word!). My musing is about aging. Oops! Bet I just lost a few readers on that one!

One of the wonderful gifts that my parents left me is that of not being afraid of growing older. My parents were in their 30s when I, the last of 5 children, was born, and even in my earliest memories of them both had grey hair. In pictures of them my mother always looked tired. I don't doubt for a moment that she was. By the way, my dad didn't smile a lot in pictures back then either. Their marriage began during The Great Depression, and we children were born into a period when families struggled a lot. I was born just shortly before the end of World War II. Add to that mix the facts that my father was a farmer and the Dustbowl made it nearly impossible to actually make a living from the land. Their lives were very difficult. I wish I could describe it more fully, but that is probably too long for this forum, so you'll just have to wait until I finish writing my memoires and have them published. :-)

Anyway, I remember from an early age that they both said various versions of the adage, "You're only as old as you feel." In later years, particularly during my high school years and after, their financial burdens were lightened, although they weren't rich by any standard. But they went on little trips, they continued to do things that they enjoyed, sometimes things that "proper" folks thought frivolous. For years my mom drove a "sports" car, by some standards. It was Karmen Ghia, a sporty little car made by Volkswagen. Same engine, just a cuter body. Here's an example.









See? It truly is a VW, engine in the trunk!










And here is a side view.










Grey hair comes early in my family. I had some in my early or mid 20s. I expected it. and it has never bothered me because it wasn't a surprise and because my parents set a good example for me. If it bothered either of them, I never heard them say anything. They continued to be lively, fun, upbeat people who looked for adventure in life. Dad would try anything once. Mom would follow Dad anywhere and try to keep up.




The only picture I have of my parents that isn't in storage. This was approximately late-1980s, with my husband and me.









This was the wonderful gift they made for us, their children. As I look at my siblings, I am pretty sure they all accepted and cherished the gift. I know I have. Sometimes I look in the mirror and think, "Whoa! When did I get to be this old?" I don't think about it much, certainly I don't worry. It simply doesn't matter. I plan to be around 30 years more, spend all my kids' inheritances and die with a smile on my face because life has been a kick.





My Sibs and me 2005. Cleo and Leo are twins and the eldest. They are at ends of the couch. In the middle is my brother Loren. Standing at the back with me is my brother Rus.









I have to throw this one in. It is hard enough to take a group picture, but in my family it is multiplied many times, because (1) we are always talking, and (2) we are always cracking jokes. My sister turned around to comment on something either my brother or I said, and . . . click!!








And this one has nothing to do with anything. I just love the picture. It's is my 2 youngest brothers and me in 1983.









I love my family, even the ones who have extreme political views!!

hee hee hee! That'll get 'em stirred up!!


;-)