Nearing 60

   When I turned 50 a few years ago, I decided I needed to learn something new. I narrowed down the choices to knitting and parallel parking. In the end, I chose knitting (and remain grateful for the angle parking behind the bookstore in Littleton). My friend Cindy taught me how to knit and would sit next to me, patiently undoing my mistakes so I could continue. I used large-sized needles and bulky yarn, which made for quick knitting. I never advanced to purling. I just knit. It may be called the stocking stitch. I didn’t learn much of the lingo either. Most of my family members have lovely, bulky scarves that I’ve knit for them. To mix it up a bit, sometimes I added fringe on the end, and sometimes I stitched the ends together to create “infinity scarves.”
   I’ll turn 60 in a little over a year, so I’ve begun thinking about what my options should be for new skill to acquire at this age. Should I go with parallel parking? Maybe learn to purl? Or venture out in some new area. Take up a musical instrument? I’ve always wanted to try watercolor painting. I’m mulling over my options. While all this has been in my head, I’ve had some conversation recently with friends about growing older, evolving, improving, accepting, and plans for what we want to do for the rest of our lives. From what vantage point do we want to observe the rest of the world now that we’ve gained years of life experience, and how do we want to look at ourselves?
   For a few decades it seems that we, women especially, went through a period of feeling the need to improve ourselves. The size of the “self-help” section in any bookstore is still a testament to this thinking. This may have been stirred up by the continued need for equality in the workplace and home. This need continues for sure. There were pieces of it, however, like Facebook’s chief operating officer Sheryl Sandburg’s “Lean In” movement, that seemed to being pushing me to be someone I didn’t necessarily want to be. I believe she had more of the luxuries of affluence and the kind of assistance that money can buy which allowed her to charge into her career full force. While for me, there were nights when my kids were young, that I considered it bold just to move a load of laundry from the washer to the dryer at 10 p.m. with the expectation that I’d still be awake 50 minutes later to fold the clothes before they wrinkled. I had all the advantages of a warm house, plenty of food and a supportive family, and sometimes just getting through the day wore me out.
   I’ve had two careers and loved them both. I worked at small weekly newspapers and didn’t feel the need to become a reporter for the New York Times. At my first job, with Vermont News Guide in Manchester, VT, my duties included taking out the trash and walking the dog, (Sarge,named after Sargent Shriver. It’s an interesting story.) Humble beginnings that led to a humble career in the newspaper world. My other career has been in small hospice programs and rural hospitals, and I haven’t felt motivated to work my way up the ladder in hospice and palliative care administration. But I did, and still do, feel compelled to learn more and be good at my job. I am not a leaner-inner. I accept that. Maybe it’s because I’m approaching sixty, but as my friend Hilary and I talked about recently, it feels good to reach for acceptance of ourselves at this point, as opposed to the need for improvement. Acceptance is a challenge in itself. And I do think we should continue to challenge ourselves. Perhaps we evolve rather than improve? I like what author Joyce Carol Oates says: “I never change. I simply become more of myself.” So, as I near 60, here’s to becoming more of myself and maybe picking up a ukulele or paintbrush.