The Fifties
I’m one of those people who still decorates her closet with inspirational artwork, favorite scripture verses and thought-provoking quotes, like a 1950s Peanuts’ coloring book page of Peppermint Patty yelling at Snoopy, “Stop telling me to comb my hair!” (Yep, I framed it.) For the last ten years, I’ve displayed one particular birthday card featuring a classic 1950s black and white photo of a Donna Reed/Elizabeth Montgomery-type woman. Every morning she has greeted me with a look of wonderment. The caption?
Ellen found her 50s to be continually surprising.
Who knew Hallmark sold a prophetic line of cards (and for only $2.23)? These days none of us knows what the next day will bring, let alone the next decade. In 2012, my nephew married his high school sweetheart; that triggered a festive round of parties, as well as more attention to personal grooming than usual. Diets, pedicures, and foundational garments stretched my annual budget. Unwanted facial hair met its match in the new miracle tool Flawless. You can buy those round razor heads in bulk, which makes sense, given the number of women in their 40s, 50s, 60s, 70s, 80s and 90s who still want to go out into public.
Another life enhancing find in my 50s: Bitmojis. They remind me of those paper dolls I played with as a kid. After punching out the new clothes, being very careful not to tear the tabs, I’d alternate outfits on Skipper and PJ – both very chic dressers. Now I just scroll through 100s of fashion options and change my look for every season, holiday, and mood! Bonus – I can opt out of wrinkles and crepey skin without buying any of the “age-defying” facial products that populate my screen like an old bulletin board border.
The best part of my 50s walked with me through the worst. Family and friends with 20, 30, 40, and 50-year track records, stood by my sister and me as we endured two, bedrock good-byes, one in 2013 (Dad), and the second in 2017 (Mom). These new and old friends are still listening; we’re still meeting for dinner, for yoga lessons, Bible study, college roommate reunions, vacations, flea market excursions, and even for birthday parties.
In the midst of gut-wrenching endings and tender beginnings, tucked in between my orthotics, compression socks, the Advil bottle and dark chocolate stash, God populates my life with cherished friends, beloved family, who made my 50s continually surprising and indescribably rich. There’s a new card in the picture frame now, with a quirky-looking middle aged woman announcing,
Some people call them Decades – I prefer to call them my “collected works.”
I changed the “my” to “our” because, Lord knows, and time has testified to this grand truth: I am not traveling through my 60s alone.