Welcome to 51...it's all downhill from here.
September 25th 2010 12:55
As I strained to see from the distance (I started wearing glasses in the fourth grade, if you must know, it’s not because of my age.) I saw one more cup sitting at the end of the line but it didn’t have a number on it. So, unable to allay my curiosity at this point, I walked up to see what it said.
In big white letters set against the black cup it said: “Over the hill”.
What? You mean I only have two more goblets to go before I’m considered “over the hill”?And I happen to know a lot of eighty-year-olds that would love to be fifty, thank you very much, so isn’t over the hill a bit of an overstatement? Why is it that we celebrate the first half of our lives at nearly every decade but then after fifty, well, you’re on your own?
And who is this omniscient goblet god that decided that anything after the age of fifty is just not goblet- worthy?
I mean sure, if you’re talking about life back in the 1930’s when life expectancy was around sixty, then okay, fifty might be considered your golden years.
But today with the life expectancy somewhere around eighty-three for women in Australia – I gained three years just moving here from America – I’m not even half-way through!
It’s a bit crazy when you think about it We regularly celebrate kids turning sixteen. We’re like, “Hey, welcome to the snotty teenager, I hate my parents, can I please, please wreck your car stage.” And then comes eighteen. The “I’m old enough to legally drink but have absolutely no idea what my limit is yet” age.
But on no, gain six plus decades of wisdom, learn to stop and smell the flowers and hopefully be a productive member of society and all you get are some black balloons and a walking cane with a rubber horn on it.
I’m starting a goblet business.
image credit: <a Really Long Link border=0 Really Long Link alt="Food Clipart Images"></a>
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