I could be wrong, but it just seems to me that all my life I’ve been out of step. It’s either been that I was too young, or at one point in my life, almost too old. For what, you may ask? Let me explain…
My mother had the bright idea to enroll me in kindergarten at the tender age of 4 years, 7 months. At that age, 5 months can make a big difference, but be that as it may, I started school nearly half a year short of my fifth birthday. It seems that I was ‘smart’, a word they used to use years ago – today they might call it ‘intellectually advanced’ – and so, I did kindergarten virtually standing my on head. By the time first grade rolled around, I was intellectually bored almost mindless, but emotionally it was a whole ‘nuther story! I just couldn’t get the hang of things and always seemed about five steps behind the rest of my classmates socially, which in essence, I truly was (if you count each month as a step). They would sneer at me with derision, calling me a baby and I hadn’t had the social moxie enough to plaster someone square in the nose or face with every child’s standard, cure-all response: “So what?!”
So, I continued throughout my school life in the top percentile of my class, and bearing the additional burden of being ensconced in accelerated classes and programs. By the time I graduated high school, I already had accrued approximately 10 college credits, thanks to a revolutionary program instituted in my last year of school. It seemed the world was my oyster and it was nothing but clear sailing ahead toward a career that promised a life full of rewards and success. However, I was by this point a full year and a half behind my classmates emotionally, and with Italian parents who wanted to keep me close to home and hearth (and out of trouble) seemingly forever. All my peers were 18 or over and able to drink (thankfully, New York State
I did the only thing I could think of to even up the score a bit: I found a boy who was crazy about me, and we formed a relationship. This was truly the beginning of a very long, tortuous journey for me which included my dropping out of college, and getting married (and later on, divorced) at far too young an age. The only saving grace was the birth of my four children, all of which I had by the time I was just 23. Again, I was way too young for such a weighty responsibility. But, I had my youth on my side, as I realized years later. Being such a young parent, I had the energy of the Gods and was able to go non-stop virtually around the clock for days, weeks, and months on end. These days, if I can manage going through the day without at least a little cat-nap, it’s almost a miracle!
At any rate, we were the youngest family in the neighborhood where we bought our first home. My older neighbors would cluck their tongues and shake their heads at the ‘noise and bother’ of the new young family on the block. Again, I felt like a pariah and slightly on the outside of things. But, I persevered.
Many years later, as my kids advanced through their own school years, I had the somewhat disquieting experience of being one of the youngest parents around. I didn’t really appreciate it fully then, fool that I was, but actually most of my kids’ friends’ parents were 5 to 10 years older than me. They, too, tended to treat me as if I were a kid myself. I used to ask myself, “WHEN am I going to be ‘old enough’?” Silly youngster that I was! It was coming….just waiting for me….right around the corner….
Well, my children went on, grew up, went to college and/or married and had kids of their own. Only this time, I had the distinct advantage of being one of the youngest grandparents around! NOW, it was starting to be a bit of fun! Still young enough to really enjoy my grandchildren, I can continue to cope with my own grown kids’ problems and pitfalls, and to realize with relief that they are all eventually going to learn from their own experiences.
Not so long ago, my second husband and I moved into our new home (we were DINKS – ‘double income, no kids at home’) and for the first time in my life, I was almost, but not quite, in the ‘too old’ category! Everyone around us was busy raising their families; but I went on to enjoy my home, my gardens, activities, and my comparative freedom, much to their longing glances and consternation.
I will never forget my 30th. high school reunion. I looked around me and saw my peers looking about 10 to 20 years older than they truly were, and worse yet, acting like it. Some had the audacity to look at me with a kind of derision, as if I were doing something purposely to make them look bad! But, I wasn’t doing anything of the sort: I was just being my age – which I began to realize at long last, with delight and more than a bit of pride, that I was almost a full two years younger than the rest of them!
So, guess what? It may have taken me a lifetime, but I not only caught up to them, so to speak, but I remained what I always was: younger than them! Because my life was full of problems that I had to learn to overcome (not the least of which is osteoncecrosis, a disease where bones and joints are dying or have died and have been replaced, and then a full- out battle with cancer), it toughened me and gave me resiliency. Instead of wearing me down, my challenges only made me rise up to meet each one. And, I discovered, this is the true ‘fountain of youth’, the ability to persevere and never to quit, no matter what life throws at you.
Very happily, I can now say with glee and a huge grin that I am almost ‘too young’ once again. I just joined our local senior center this week and, as I expected, I am one of the youngest there (age to join is 55 and up).
Oh, joy! – and pass the Mah jongg tiles, please!
