I have an interesting year ahead of me - the last of my 50s. I'm on a speeding train heading toward 6-0. Hang with me while I learn to write and say the word "sixty."
I went from not being able to wear pants in elementary school to wearing jeans, Pea coats, and high top blue suede tennis shoes in high school. They gave 18-year-olds the vote and came to our high school to register us. They stopped the draft when my schoolmates turned 18. We weren't allowed to trust anyone over 30 and Vietnam was coming to a close. Bras had long since been burned and women were torn between career or the 50s and 60s wife and mother image, but we were prepared to do it all. Much has changed historically, but principles and philosophies of many of my friends have remained the same. We didn't all "sell out," as it was called, bowing to "the man." We believed in peace and began the Earth Day movement (from Arbor Day to Earth Day, if I remember correctly).
And now, we, I are moving into our supposed golden years and how the hell is that supposed to feel, to change us, to accentuate or disintegrate our lives?
Oh yeah, it's time to change tact here. There will still be me and my paleo, but more importantly, it's time to admit that 6-0 is headed my way and other than body rebellion, I don't think I have or will change all that much.
Join me. This should be fun.