Bakerina
four.three.too
With every birthday, three things happen, like clockwork: 1. I wonder how it's possible that I hit this particular age -- isn't this how old people's parents are supposed to be? 2. I then remember that I came of age during the Cold War, particularly during a time of blood-freezing conversations about the "winnability" of nuclear war. For nearly 15 years, I spent at least part of every day wondering if *this* would be the day, and pretty much assuming I'd be dead long before 25, never mind 40 (or 43). So the fact that I'm still alive -- and no longer wondering when the missiles will arrive -- is nothing short of wonderful. 3. From there, I think of an interview with Mark Morris when he turned 50. The interviewer asked Morris how he felt at 50, particularly as an artist in an intensely physical medium, and he answered, "Truthfully, I feel exactly the same at 50 as I did when I was two. I just have more hair." Spoken like a genius.
So here I am, feeling the same at 43 as I did when I was two, only with more hair; the same as I did when I was 15, only without wondering whether the world would still be here next year; the same as I did the first time I saw my own hands in front of me and thought: I'm not imagining things; I'm right here.
(Happy Thanksgiving, all. Even to those of you who don't observe, or who observe on different days. :)
four.three.too
With every birthday, three things happen, like clockwork: 1. I wonder how it's possible that I hit this particular age -- isn't this how old people's parents are supposed to be? 2. I then remember that I came of age during the Cold War, particularly during a time of blood-freezing conversations about the "winnability" of nuclear war. For nearly 15 years, I spent at least part of every day wondering if *this* would be the day, and pretty much assuming I'd be dead long before 25, never mind 40 (or 43). So the fact that I'm still alive -- and no longer wondering when the missiles will arrive -- is nothing short of wonderful. 3. From there, I think of an interview with Mark Morris when he turned 50. The interviewer asked Morris how he felt at 50, particularly as an artist in an intensely physical medium, and he answered, "Truthfully, I feel exactly the same at 50 as I did when I was two. I just have more hair." Spoken like a genius.
So here I am, feeling the same at 43 as I did when I was two, only with more hair; the same as I did when I was 15, only without wondering whether the world would still be here next year; the same as I did the first time I saw my own hands in front of me and thought: I'm not imagining things; I'm right here.
(Happy Thanksgiving, all. Even to those of you who don't observe, or who observe on different days. :)