January 15, 2020
I was born in January, 1960. The cusp of a new age.
The earliest memory I have is of my mother wailing at the TV.
President Kennedy had been assassinated.
I grew up in a nearly 300-year-old house that had been a station on the Underground Railroad, in a small town where I walked down the street to school and church, and the library was across the street, like my second home. My best friend lived on the same block.
I am the sixth child of seven. My older siblings were an enormous influence on my life. Some were involved in the anti-war movement. One brother was a conscientious objector; another served in the Navy offshore of Vietnam.
The 1960s were a decade of revolution. Civil rights, peace marches, women’s lib, and cultural upheaval were all I’d ever known. Ed Sullivan and Laugh-In were weekly rituals. The moon landing and Nixon’s election were huge events.
My childhood was filled with the music of Mom and Dad’s big band jazz, Episcopal hymns, The Beatles, Motown, Bob Dylan. I learned classical piano on our beat up clunker in the basement, and then as a teen, a friend taught me chords, and the whole world of playing rock ‘n’ roll opened up for me.
Much is being made in 2020 about 50th anniversaries. The first Earth Day, the Beatles’ breakup, Kent State, the loss of Hendrix and Joplin, the EPA’s creation, Apollo 13. I was ten years old that year, in 6th grade. Girls had just gained the right to wear pants to school. My mom sewed me a seafoam green, spongy polyester pantsuit that was sooo cool. Jeans were not allowed until I was in junior high.
This is my last day of my 50s. Tomorrow I enter the ranks of the Social Security, Medicare, and (for the fortunate) “retirement” decade.
I am eternally grateful for my family, my health, and my incredibly rewarding career. Despite some personal difficulties, I thoroughly appreciate the fact that I’ve made it thus far, and I know full well how lucky I have been.
Tomorrow, all my siblings and I, and our partners, will be in our 60s, at least for a few months, until the oldest turns 70. We have lost our parents, three brothers, and a sister-in-law. We have been through unspeakable tragedy together, and still have fits of uncontrollable laughter together. We have holidays and barbecues and family jam sessions. We have children and grandchildren and great-nephews, one of whom is an adult already.
Life is an amazing journey, a breathtaking roller coaster, a mishmash of unbearable pain and exquisite joy. The wonder of nature, the exultation of Spirit, the camaraderie of family and friends, and the inspiration of music thankfully outweigh the troubles that life brings.
What a long, strange trip it’s been.
Inner Voice 