I have outlived my own mother,
one like no other, as yours must be ,too.
A mother who labored to bring me to life
then labored every day after
to create a world of joy and laughter,
joined by my father with teasing whiles
who kept a joke ready for when I most needed smiles.
Life struggles were an everyday event
twisted into humor at every bent.
Nothing could really bring us down
so long as we could laugh and play the clown.
Long gone are my parents, to play other venues
where they must have been needed,
while I continue to live honored and feted.
Happy birthday to me, yes, it is indeed
thanks to two people whose love brought forth
a daughter who could never fully explain their worth.
Being loved teaches love of self passed on to others.
Brought to each of us by our fathers and mothers,
if we are lucky enough to join such hearts.
Such love breaks every sorrow apart.
And, love leads to laughter beyond the here-after.
I still feel Dad’s touch tousling my hair
as Mom grunted a sigh of despair
at some forbidden lark I had dared.
I still sense their dismay when I leap into a fray
they would wish I had avoided,
or take a risky challenge simply to brighten my day.
I hear their voices of warning advising how to proceed.
Their teachings continue to meet my every need.
They may be gone beyond my sight
but they continue to live within a greater light
that fills the heart and seeds the mind just right
that I see Dad’s grin on my face as I pass a mirror,
or hear mom’s lilt as I sing at the kitchen sink,
recalling her tilt into dad’s arms as he gave me a wink.
Each day my parents gave to me
is wrapped like a present in distant memory.
I am thankful for the life they gave to me.
annarino writes 
Another Milestone Reached,Louise Annarino,2-10-2014
Another Milestone Reached,Louise Annarino,2-10-2014
Today, I joined the medicare ranks, celebrating my sixty-fifth birthday. Like all milestones, it forced me to consider the significance of my life. Why was I born? What accomplishment did the milestone celebrate? What did reaching this milestone portend?
Over the past weeks, as my birthday approached, I consider past milestones. I am not speaking about my personal milestones; only about universal American milestones.
What are those milestones? At age 13 I became a teenager. My bobby-soxer days were finally beginning. I could claim ownership of American Bandstand, wear nylon stockings, and call my Father “Daddio”. Little did I know that wearing stockings was a miserable experience. As suspected, I managed one “Daddio” before my Father put a stop to such disrespect. Still, I felt older.
At age 16 I was allowed to date. This was a total waste in my case. Unless one was invited to be someone’s date it made no difference. The boys around me did not quite measure up to the someones of my imagination; nor I to their imaginary siren. Sixteen was not so sweet after all. Rather, a time of facing the unrealistic nature of teenage dreams. Still, I felt older.
At age 18 I could drink 3.2 beer. I was not permitted to go into any bar except the Center Cafe owned by my dad and uncles. My great-uncle George served me my first beer, perched on a Center cafe bar stool, surrounded by Angelo,Frank,Joe and John. Their advice freely flowed and took the excitement down several notches. I went back to Coca-Cola. At age 21, the scene repeated itself when Uncle George served me my first drink, Johnny Walker. After choking it down with back slaps from dad and uncles, I again returned to Coca-Cola. Still, each time, I felt older.
At age 21 I could also register to vote. I registered on my birthday, joined both the Young Republicans and Young Democrats, missing the only primary I ever missed by refusing to declare a party until I was sure which one spoke for me. The next primary, I declared myself a Democrat. It has taken a lifetime to see the changes my vote has wrought. Still, that day, I felt older.
At age 50 I entered what we commonly accept as middle age. The addition makes no sense and the event itself is more a Hallmark moment than any meaningful accomplishment. At least I became eligible for my Golden Buckeye card, and happily if guiltily use its discounts for the “aging”. I wondered how I could be middle aged and a senior citizen at the same time. Still, I felt older.
Finally, at age 65 I received my medicare card, became an official old person, turned my sneakers silver, and can freely wear purple with a red hat. I am sure that is all my parents hoped for me 65 years ago. The strangest thing is I feel younger.
It is good thing to feel younger because I have been considering what the next universal American milestone is and came to an uncomfortable conclusion. The next milestone is death, or perhaps hospice for a while. As a milestone it leaves a lot to be desired. I am not eager to reach it, I can assure you.
The beauty of 65 is that I can now pursue my personal milestones, those things one delays until any number of events occur. For some it is retirement from a job. For others, it is knowing one’s children are settled and able to care for themselves and their children. And, for many, it is the freedom to speak more freely, explore geographies of the mind and of the earth, stay up all night and sleep in the next day. At 65, it is time to live in the moment.
Age 65 allows us to become kids at play again, challenge the status quo as we did as teenagers, use our true voice for change as we did through our vote, make more mature decisions with wisdom gained through our middle years. Age 65 allows us the time and freedom to become all we can be. We are reborn. We are young again. Today, and every day after this I am younger than I was yesterday. This is going to be a fun time! Want to come along with me?
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