Omigosh, I am SO old??

In just 2 hours and 11 minutes, Iwill no longer start my age with the digit "4." This is my last day in my 40s, and I'm okay with that.

When I was a child, 20-somethings were big people, adults, that is until I got to my 20s and felt like an imposter playing dress-up. Then 30 seemed so old--until I got to 30. It seemed anti-climactic in fact. The only thing that changed was that I stopped adding a year to my age with each birthday. I realized it when I started to tell someone I was 30 when in fact I was 33. Oops!

The age of 40 was even more anticlimactic. There was too much going on. The most memorable thing about 40 was that I was stung by a bee, for the first time ever, on my birthday. Lucky me.

So what thoughts do I have about turning 50? Well, it sounds really, really old. Fifty years. One-half century. Old enough to be a member of AARP. Senior discounts, here I come!

Plus, so much has happened that when related to younger folk, it makes me sound old. I have an adult child, for goodness sake! In my lifetime, I've seen the advent of cheap electronics, from calculators ($400 when I started high school) to the home computer. My iPhone has more functionality than the computers aboard the first Apollo space ships. Oh, and there was that first moon-landing that I witnessed live.

I would sound like an old fogey should I start to talk about the price of things "back in the day." I'll be able to regale my grandchildren with stories of purchasing 45s for 99 cents and LPs for $7.00 ($12.00 for double albums). Oh yes, I can remember when candy bars were 10 cents and even a nickel bought a bag of penny candy. Fifty cents bought enough candy to share with the neighborhood.

On a more serious note, I was born into a country where it was perfectly legal to discriminate against Blacks and women for no other reason than that they were Blacks and women. Only as an adult did I apprecate my mother's accomplishment in being able to qualify for mortgage as a widowed, Black woman. That didn't occur until after the passage of the various civil rights acts, but discrimination was so endemic that obtaining a loan with three strikes against her (female, single, and Black) was almost unheard of at that time.

Had I grown up in the South, I might have sipped from the water fountain set aside for "Negroes." I was 6 or 7 years old before the Supreme Court decided Loving v. Virginia. Women lawyers (or for that matter, female bus drivers) were rare, virtually an object of curiosity.

I suppose I could go on, but the simple fact is a lot has happened. But . . . I don't feel my age. I started this morning with a walk/run in which I felt great! Endorphins are my friends. My mother, God bless her, couldn't run 50 yards when she was 50 years old. On a good day, I can jog three miles, and four miles on a really good day.

I have no grandchildren, and no expectation of any anytime soon. I do have, however, a six-year old. Plus, I'm still too young to qualify for the best senior citizen discounts.

So, tomorrow, I cross an artificial and arbitrary line. But the simple fact is that life (God willing) goes on and life is good. I expect that there will be little difference between today and tomorrow, besides a little cake (okay a lotta cake) and ice cream.