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When did my cardiologist become younger than me? For that matter, how is it possible that I even need a cardiologist? I now take these little pale, yellow pills for cholesterol. I have parents in their 90s who take pills for cholesterol. And cholesterol pills are no larger than the size of a pinhead. What can that do for me? My heart is much larger than that.
How did this happen already? Feels like I was just 24.
Just this past week while watching March Madness, the 40-something announcer was providing historical data about a college basketball team that had just upset a Number One seed. Apparently, this team hadn’t been to the NCAA tournament in over 40 years.
He followed that statistic, “and that was in the 80s,” as if that was a time when dinosaurs lived. Just that one statement hit me in the face like a splash of cold water. I was a cool 20-something in the 80s.
How, on the eve of my 64th birthday, did I become older than every type of professional athlete that I once aspired to be? I now share my life with a Medicare-aged spouse and qualify for Social Security. Back in the 80’s we just had to memorize our Social Security number as a form of identity, never contemplating it as a source of income.
And when did I become that person who religiously reads the obituaries every morning? It was my mother who always called me to share the tragedy of the death of a friend. I am now that person, feeling a sense of satisfaction that I get to her first! I wince when the obit is for someone 60 or under. Isn’t our Baby Boom motto — "60 is the new 40"?
I know that I still feel cool. Well, relatively cool, especially when things like this come up:
Just this past weekend in Brooklyn, my youngest son accompanied me to a local dispensary as it’s legal to obtain cannabis without a medical prescription in the state of New York. First off, we called it pot. Now it’s cannabis. And when did purchasing cannabis become a science tutorial?
This was not like the Woodstock marijuana purchases, that’s for sure. The place was spotless. The display cases were organized by product type and potency. Magnifying scopes were available for customers to examine the products. I was so far out of my element. In my day, okay it was 40 years ago, you paid $5 for a “nickel bag” and went on your way.
When did marijuana become use-specific? With fancy names. Seems like yesterday, and I still use the term, marijuana was just ‘weed’. And, there was only one reason to buy it — to get stoned.
Do these young people even know that another use of cannabis is to get stoned? My 20-something sales clerk might as well have been speaking a foreign language when she asked if I preferred more of the Sativa or Indica. And how about the advent of infused gummies, those sweets that are far different than the ever-popular bear-shaped gummy bears, created by the German confectioner company Haribo in 1922?
Indica, she went on to explain, has more THC, the substance in the cannabis plant that is known to have a more calming and relaxing impact. This, while Sativa tends to be more energizing. Being in no position to Google anything she said without being caught and embarrassed for it, I just nodded as if I was contemplating between the two. I was not.
My only thought was this: When did we ever smoke weed to get energized? I didn’t even know there was such a concept.
“What are you looking to treat?”, continued my sales clerk. “Any physical pain, anxiety, depression or stress?”
“Yes”, I simply said, And then I said no more.
I’m sure she didn’t realize that I am still cool, even if I wasn’t versed in marijuana menus. I wanted to tell her that back in our day we rolled our own marijuana joints and took pride in it — and that a joint was a pot cigarette and not a part of our bodies. That in our day, we bought weed when it was illegal. How cool and crazy is that?
I wanted her to know that long before she was born we used to separate our marijuana buds from the seeds using an open album cover. The seed would get trapped in the album seam. Then I forgot — she likely doesn’t own albums, and if she does they are for listening. This was definitely a gummy girl. (As am I! And as are so are many of my 60 and 70-something friends. How cool is that!
As I contemplate my life’s journey, I can accept the aging process if it means that I can watch our children grow and become the people they are destined to be. I can accept that young people may not know how cool we are, as I was once them. Remember when the hippie generation clung to this motto:: “Don’t trust anyone over 30"? Little did we know that decades later hip people increasingly live until 100 and more.
I love that current popular music today speaks to my children, just as Meatloaf and Billy Joel spoke to me. I may not be current with all the language of today’s generation and might have confused the acronym, LOL for “lots of love” instead of “laugh out loud." However, I do know that Facebook-ing is different than Face-timing — as I do both.
I also know at 64, I can still beat my kids in a two-out-of-three tennis match. And, they have seen me dance table-top when inspired by music from Taylor Swift and Beyonce. if you see a petite and fit woman savoring a premium cigar on the streets of the West Village, where her youngest son lives, that might be me.
Who says I’m not cool?
Are any of you in your 60s? How do you feel about it? Let us know in the comments below.
Cécile Dormeau
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