A Woman of a Certain Age

Today my firstborn child celebrates his 30th birthday. How can that be when I'm only 29? Actually, I've always hated that joke. And why is it considered rude to ask a woman her age? Why is age something to hide? I turned 60 in March and it didn't bother me a bit. I can't deny I feel a frisson of pleasure when someone says I don't look my age, but honestly, I know they're lying. I look exactly my age - I can tell by the expression on the Publix cashier's face as he tries to decide if he should give me the senior discount.

American culture fetishizes youth while other cultures respect age. Women are constantly

barraged with billions of dollars of ads for anti-aging creams, lotions, and serums. Then there's plastic surgery, Botox (made from the toxin that causes botulism), acid peels, microdermabrasion, microneedling, injectables, and laser resurfacing. Do any of those things not sound like torture? Women endure all of this because to be an older woman in America is to be irrelevant, invisible, and inadequate. Even I succumb to some of this pressure and pay a lot of money to have my hair colored on a regular basis.

https://market.us/report/anti-aging-products-market/

We're bombarded with images of 'the ideal woman,' yet we're also led to believe we can all look that way forever if we purchase the right products. A huge pet peeve of mine is women in their sixties, seventies, and eighties doing sexy photo shoots. (I'm talking to you, Martha Stewart.) Can we ever get a break? Do we have to spend every year of our life trying to look like a 22-year-old supermodel? When can we relax and wear stretchy pants and forget about the male gaze? At what age do our hearts and brains matter more than our faces and bodies? Geez, there should be some kind of trade-off for the aches and pains.

Show Some Respect

Many other cultures show deep respect for older people. Japan has an annual "Respect for the Aged Day" on the third Monday in September. China has a law requiring that adult children care for their parents who are 60 or older (including regular calls and visits) - failure to do so may result in lawsuits or fines. In India, elders are regarded as the head of the household and are consulted for their wisdom. In many countries, it is regarded as shameful to put elderly relatives in an old-age home.

Asian cultures aren't the only societies that respect the wisdom and experience of their elders. In many Native American tribes, older people eat first, served by the young. Elders are considered memory keepers - living libraries of knowledge and tradition. In Greece, it's common for babies to be named after their grandparents. In Latin America, multiple generations often live under the same roof and the oldest care for the youngest while the middle generation works.

I am convinced that in the Zombie Apocalypse, Boomers will outlive the youngsters. Once the Internet goes down, we'll have all the advantages. We may not remember everything, but we do have a vast store of knowledge we keep in that internal hard drive we lovingly refer to as our brain. We can read a paper map. We know to wear long pants in the winter. We can accomplish tasks without a YouTube video. We have stores of pent up rage from holding our feelings inside. We may not excel at self-care, but we'll work overtime until we kick some undead butt.

Calling All Crones

The word crone conjures images of ugly and malevolent women who try to bake children in ovens or make coats out of puppies. In many cultures, however, the crone is seen as a wise woman, adept at healing and in tune with the sacred. In fact, the word "hag" comes from the Greek word for "holy." The crone archetype has existed in literature since the earliest days of the written word.

Many of these wise women were considered to be witches. I'm not personally interested in being a witch, but I'm okay with being wise and powerful. A lot of my friends are younger than I am, but I look forward to welcoming them to Club Crone, a place where we can say what we think, wear and eat what we want, and dispense wisdom if we feel like it. Nothing scary about it. Consider this a personal invitation to join Club Crone once you hit menopause.

The Mother Archetype

Another female archetype is Mother, the perfectly loving and wise caregiver. Yet another unattainable goal for women. So what wisdom have I gained in my thirty years of motherhood? I'm still working on the 'you can't control your children's lives' concept, so I won't claim to have mastered that skill. But I did a few things right: I hugged and kissed them, and I read books to them, and I took them places. Real places. Not Disney World.

My daughter complained her entire life about the fact we never took her to Disney World. We took her to Mexico and to Europe three times and sent her on church trips to Jamaica and Guatemala. Oh, and I took her to Disneyland in California. But never to Orlando, never to the happiest place on earth. Poor child. Now that she's grown, she appreciates being carted around the world, but peer pressure is powerful, even for kids.

It's solid advice: take your children to real places with real people. You can easily take them to another country for what it costs to go to Disney and stand in line in the hot sun for hours while sipping astronomically priced soda and shaking hands with people in costumes. Go see a real castle. Or a real pirate ship. Or real mice even. If you really can't afford travel abroad, go see the world's biggest ball of yarn. Attend a multicultural festival. Visit a lake or a cave or a city. Do everything you can to keep your kids curious.

Daniel would probably do well in the Zombie Apocalypse. He's young and strong and he knows things in his brain. I'm often amazed by everything he knows about a random topic.

Of course, he would probably let the Zombies eat me so that he could escape, but a good mother would always sacrifice herself for her child, right? I'm going to remain hopeful and believe he would figure out a way for us both to escape.

In thirty more years, my son will be sixty and I'll be ninety. Chances are I'll still be trying to run his life. Sorry, kid. At least I promise not to participate in any sexy photo shoots.

Happy birthday, Daniel! It's been thirty years of pride and joy. May you grow very old and may every year be your best year yet.