Over the Mountain

That's Ha Ling to the right, my last gasp as a youngster could be on top.

Technically I won’t be Officially Olde until Monday evening, but since tomorrow (Sunday) is the Party on the Peak and the Party in the Park, this may be my last chance for a When I’m 64 blog.

It’s been a crazy year in a lot of ways. I still don’t know everything about what to expect when I start being Officially Olde in September (the government doesn’t turn into the givernment until the month following your qualifying birthday). There are a bunch of forms that ask for a lot of information, not all of which I have right now.  All in good time.

I sure wish I had a nickel (OK, a quarter) for everyone who’s either asked me what Offically Olde is or told me age is just a number (explain that to the government). I’m climbing a peak to party on top partially because I can and partially to share the experience with friends and partially, I guess, because Old just ain’t what it used to be. It’ll be a two or three hour slog and we have a ton of smoke from fires in British Columbia and Russia here, so the view could be bad-smog-day-in-LA hazy. It may even be raining.

We don’t care.

As for age, there will be oldies (me & some other 1945ers) and 20s, with several scattered in between. One may be older, but I haven’t asked her age -- I hardly ever do, since numbers don’t matter unless we’re civil servants.

 We will start together and meet at the top, each at their own pace, no trophies for first or last. I’m paking my favorite cake: angel food, with some fruit for juicy flavor in a separate container to combine at the top. And my camera. And water. And a coat. And one 6 and one 5 candle, since the Dollar Store did not have a single card, paper plate, napkin, light up pin or banner touting 65. I combined a 60 with a 5 in the kids’ section.  Guess nobody celebrates 65. Don’t know why.

 I’ve been climbing to get in shape, but not as often as I’d like. Life has gotten in the way. I spent a weekend helping a buddy move five hours away (yeah, yeah, nice of me, but that won’t help when I miss her when she’s gone). And a weekend trying to see if my sister, brother and I can bury grievances and get along. On the surface, it seemed like a bust. My sister couldn’t stand the sight of me after the second day and we never said goodbye. My brother was cold as ice on the trip back to the airport, bitterly disappointed he hadn’t been able to broker a ceasefire or peace.

I wasn’t feeling too copacetic myself until I got some distance on it and talked to a few friends and realized it wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought.  For one thing, we had a hoot the first few days. Together. With family. Laughing. Playing Liars Dice. Hiking. That was pretty cool.

In  fact, it was outstanding compared to some sibling stories I’ve heard. One friend, a gentle woman I adore, told me she has seven siblings...and talks to one.  One! And I heard repeatedly that getting along for a few days, then having tempers flare, defenses rise and hurts hurt is pretty par for the sister-brother scene.

We may have set our sights too high. If we get along for two days and fall apart by the third...it’s a no brainer to plan two-day parties, isn’t it? If we don’t want to dredge up all the crap we’ve been hoarding all these years, so be it. Live on the surface, get along, laugh, hug, love--and stay upwind of the crap.

I’m not saying it was an unmitigated success, but it wasn’t a disaster, either. There is hope.

First, I have to explain this to my brother and sister, who are moping about the Summit breakdown. Me, the Spin Doctor, must show them how it was not a failure, or a harbinger that there will be no more. There certainly could be, just shorter ones.

It has been a very good year in many ways. Maybe this being Olde is more than it’s cracked up to be because I don’t feel like waiting for things to happen anymore. I saw my landlord changing the oil in his car. I want to do that. Not just to save money, although that’s cool, but why the heck not?

It’s a goal.

I was going to report being 64 really isn’t a big deal, but I’m beginning to suspect it is. It opened some gate or wall or something and I don’t feel constrained or intimidated or shy about doing what I want or trying something new.  I’ve always been like that, but now even more. So look up old friends, go places you haven’t seen – or visited for a while – play some Liars Dice and laugh with the family and kick back in your penultimate year before you become Officially Old.

Then kiss being young goodbye, thank heaven, and get on with exploring the other side. Not only is it not what it used to be, but I hear it’s a hell of a ride.