Wilford Brimley Was My Age in Cocoon (And That's Deeply Unsettling)

OH boy, here we go again. Another trip around the sun, another year in the books.

When my husband and I turned 50, we made sure to celebrate that mid-century mark right. We went on two trips, one to Ireland and one on a southern Caribbean and South America cruise. My husband also surprised me with a weekend away at a boutique hotel, our kids in tow and my best friend waiting there when I walked in. It was festive and fun, and then it hit me. I am 50. How did that happen?

Now I'm over 50. Do I keep celebrating like each one is a milestone, or pretend I'm going to stay 50 forever and never add another number to it? This has me thinking this week, as I celebrate my next birthday this weekend.

When 50 Looked Old

When I was a kid, I thought 50 was OLD. Like, really old. I had family members who seemed ancient to me at the time, and when I look back now, they were just about the same age I am today.

I remember my grandmother who always wore a house dress. She scurried around in her house shoes, her hair always gray (I honestly don't think I ever saw it any other way). And how old was she? I think she was in her 50s.

And then there's this little nugget for those of us who grew up on cable TV: Wilford Brimley was reportedly 49 years old when he played an old man in Cocoon in 1985. Seriously. The oatmeal guy looked older than my great-grandmother when he was barely 50. And the Golden Girls? Dorothy was supposed to be 53, Rose was 55, and Blanche was 53. Am I on the verge of moving into a senior community with three other women?

Time Is a Funny Thing

My birthday falls on a year where I can easily calculate how old I'll be at any milestone. Back in 1988, I remember thinking to myself, "I can't believe I'll be 50 in 2025." In those days, that felt like something straight out of the Jetsons.

How Old Do I Actually Feel?

Not 50-ish, if I'm being straight about it. On a great day, more like 40. On an "eh" day, maybe 45. I can't (or don't want to) stay up past 10:00 anymore. I can't read a thing without first hunting for a pair of cheaters that are most likely sitting on top of my head. But I feel spry and alive, and that counts for something.

What I Know Now

Some days I have to remind myself to be grateful for each one. Especially when I think of my mom and dad, who aren't here anymore. Maybe that's my birthday resolution this year: be grateful for the air in my lungs, the people I love, and the chance to start fresh every single morning.

I've stopped chasing the grandiose. It's the simpler things that bring me joy now, and I think that's exactly where I'm supposed to be.

I'll make sure to include a wish for you when I blow out that firestorm of candles this weekend.