uTopianTurtleTop

OK, I’M GETTING OLDER

There have been signs all along the way. That summer in my early 20s when I started liking country music, which I had sworn when I was in high school never to like, saying it to an adult teammate on the church softball team who replied, “I used to be just like you when I was in high school; I only liked rock and roll, but then I slowed down a little bit and the country music rhythms started sounding better,” to which I had scoffed at the time -- hah! Then there was that morning in my late 20s when I woke up and realized (to some horror, which I’ve since gotten over) that those Barbra Streisand records my mom listened to while I was growing up -- I like them. Some years later, coming to terms with the truth that those Barry Manilow songs I liked when I was 10 -- I still like them.

More recently, a few months ago, listening to Thelonious Monk in my cubicle and my cube neighbor remarking cheerfully that it sounded like elevator music. The very same thing about the very same musician was said to me by someone else when I was 19, and I had then gotten very indignant. Now, I just shrug it off -- and not just because I find elevator music interesting when I didn’t back then.

Today, at the beach with the 2-year-old, playing in the sand, beautiful spring sunny cloudy windy day in Seattle, seeing cruise ships heading north to Alaska and thinking for the first time -- hey, I might not mind doing something like that some day. Given my family’s financial status, it’s unlikely to happen, but the thought was NEW to me.

Turned 42 yesterday. Got phone calls and emails and well-wishing blog comments and had a party. Four of my band’s five members played in the dead-end alley behind our house, and we fed 20 people (including 6 little kids), bratwurst & veggie burgers, and grilled eggplant and zucchini, and salad, and vegan birthday cake. (My son is allergic to eggs & dairy; we were psyched to find a good vegan cake recipe on the web. The secret is two whole pears to bind it together and keep it moist.) Bob, the drummer, was nervous but congenial when 3 two-year-olds gathered around his floor tom-tom to give the band a polyrhythmic, free jazz feel, which I dug musically as well as visually and socially. One of my best birthdays ever.