The Last Day of My Latest Age, Or............

...........Guess what, tomorrow's my birthday! I used to think I'd rather swallow crushed glass than make it to the age I will be tomorrow, but here I am, still auditioning for shows, buying fun clothes, wearing silver and pearls, still dancing to the Stones and the Eurythmics, still singing along with poor dead Mama Cass, going swoony over Leonard Cohen and Lyle Lovett, not to mention Carole King and James Taylor. Well, James Taylor. Do I have aches? In places. But some of them are GOOD aches. In places. Do I still have a memory? Please!I'm not THAT old!

So what have I learned in this past year? Well........I've learned I can still cook. The other night I made a fantastic curry soup filled with fresh sauteed shrimp. This morning I boiled an egg. I've read tons of books, including Jonathan Franzen's new book, "Freedom", which I can hardly put down. I've learned I can rebuild a private practice without the aid of telephone books or ads. I've learned that, even on "island", I can still run a viable business without a copy machine or fax machine or cell phone. Well, I DO have a cell phone, I just don't use it. It's too little. I've learned that Valentines do still exist, especially homemade ones. I've learned I'm still flexible. I've learned quite a lot about what Stephen Hawkings calls "Model-dependent realism", built from our own amazing brains. I've learned that objective reality may not actually exist. I've learned that a homely fourteen year old girl from Chicago began a blog about style and now hobnobs with the great fashionistas of the world. I've learned that romance still exists. I've learned that I am still not a great candidate for hypnosis and that the Episcopalian church may still be too Episcopalian for me. I've relearned that, next to Ibuprofen and a little bit of Alprazalam, laughter is still the best medicine.

My mother died at 47. My grandmother died at 63. I've outlived both of them. I've learned that movie characters keep gtting younger, as with Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor in "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf", which I just watched again after twenty-some years. When first I saw this film, I thought it was about a couple of fat old people who were funny. The other night I watch two leanish youngish people who were tragic. Two months ago, I reread Margaret Drabbles fine book, "Realms of Gold" and realized that now the book's characters are way way younger than me. They used to be much older.

I've learned that when someone says, "Now, this isn't about YOU..." it IS about you. I've learned that I can absorb people being mad at me without getting all defensive or scared. As long as they don't try to kill me, it's not that bad. And even if they DID try to kill me, and even they SUCEEDED, well, I've had a damn good year and we DO have to go, either gentle or not, into that good night, sometime.