Finally 40

In the coming week, I will turn 40 years old. Finally. I think that I have been waiting almost forever to be the age that I have felt most of my life. Even when I was a young girl, I just wanted to be "grown up." To add fuel to this instinct, from the time that I entered my early teens until even last week, people have always thought that I am much older than my actual age.

 When I was 13, people used to mistake me to be the 17 year old in the family. They would bypass my sister and say, "So, where are you applying for college?" You can imagine the delight this gave a 13 year old and I am sure that I am made sister aware of it every possible moment. 

 When I was in college, we had a guest to the Psychology Dept. This individual saw me carrying around some papers and addressed me:

  • "Are you a secretary here?" "No, I am not."
  • "Well, then you must be a graduate student?" "No, I'm sorry."
  • "Then...are you a faculty member?" Laughing - "No."
  • "Well, if you are not a secretary, graduate student or faculty member, then what is your affiliation here?" "I'm an undergrad." "Really? No!" "Yes, I am."


 When I took my first "real job" after college, I worked at the Spurwink School where I was mistaken for someone in her late 20s. This is where I met a full-fledged adult who said that she always felt that she was older than her cohort and that it wasn't until she was 40 that she felt the same age as her peer group. This is the first time that I had heard someone else express what I had always felt. So, I officially started to wait for my 40th birthday.

 Last semester? Someone thought that I was 48. Well, there is no need to rush things now that I am finally 40, is there?

 So, I am about to be 40. It feels slightly strange to leave behind my 30s and even stranger to think that I am a decade away from being 50, but since I have been waiting for this moment, I'm going to embrace it. Plus, I move into a new "age group" with slower qualifying race times, which is a dream for this slower runner!

 Here are a few pictures of me as I crossed the line into other decades.
Me, Christmas, 1973, 10 months old.
  
Me, Fall 1983, age 10.

Me, probably in 1984, age 11.

Me, Fall 1991, age 18, right after I moved to Cleveland to attend the Cleveland Institute of Music

Me,  Summer 1991, age 18, in Europe
Me, one decade-ish older, 31, 2004, when I served as a post-doctoral fellow at the Family Research Laboratory, University of New Hampshire
Me, 32, with Blackberry, Spring 2005 
And, here we are in Fall 2012 - just about to turn 40; Neil and me at the Met. Museum of art in NYC

Dorothy and me, Fall 2012, celebrating her 23rd birthday.

I wonder what pictures I will post a decade from now?

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Who Would Scam an Oboe Teacher?

Image
Apparently someone named William Clark, or someone who uses the name William Clark and whose email address is: wclark200@yahoo.com . Last week Neil mentioned to me that he had received an unusual request from "William Clark," for oboe lessons for his 13 year old daughter, Mary. He stated that they were out of the country, but would soon be coming to the United States. Mr. Clark failed to answer any of Neil's usual questions for new students, such as how long Mary had been playing, inquires about her instrument, and whether they would be taking lessons at USM or Dartmouth - the locations of his two teaching studios. Neil usually asks if the child has, in addition to playing oboe, any other tendencies toward self-injurious behavior. Silent on all of these matters.  Then Mr. Clark wanted to pay for several weeks of lessons upfront. Neil had never encountered this before, but why would a free-lance musician say no to a parent wanting to pay for lessons in advance? Then N
Read more

What Happens When a Stress Fracture Won't Heal?

Image
That's right. I have at least two stress fractures that won't heal. I've had one for about 15 weeks and a second for at least 18 months. When a fractured bone won't heal, it's called a non-union fracture . I get quite a kick out of this. Makes me think of my bones slaving away in a sweatshop or something! What do we do to try to get non-union bones to heal? First, health providers put you in a surgical boot. Say good-bye to the surgical shoe. It's all about the boot now. My boot looks just like this one. I don't really want to know how long I have to wear it. Despite it being clunky and a miserable fashion statement, it is much better than the surgical shoe -- in terms of walking. It also seems nearly impossible to re-injure oneself in this contraption! Driving a standard is definitely a no-no. Photo from Ortho Tape Second, we get a bone stimulator. I know, who knew there was such a thing?  Apparently before the days of bone stimulation, there was su
Read more

Limping All the Way to Five

Our first black Labrador Retriever, Blackberry, had health problems. He started having seizures between 6-9 months of age. We discovered that he had epilepsy and successfully treated his condition with  phenobarbital  for 9 years. The bad news is that it slowly destroyed his liver. We made that trade-off because alternative medications were much more expensive. So, we lost Blackberry when he was 9. I still think it was the right decision. Blackberry lived a happy life. He was the center of our family and even part of the community. Everyone seemed to know him. Neil was once exercising Blackberry in the Saco River in Biddeford and a school-aged girl with a fishing rod passed by them and commented to her father, "That dog's name is Blackberry." Neil had never seen that child in his life or since. When the UPS man would arrive at our house, he would hand us a package and look in through the door, saying, "Hi, Blackberry!"  Despite this condition, he had a pretty
Read more