When my mother was age 62, I was about 22 years old. Mom had white hair and worn an apron over her dress. All her meals were made from scratch. She worked in the garden and canned vegetables for the winter. Mom relaxed at the end of a day under a shade tree in her favorite lawn chair. My parents did not have air conditioning and did not complain about that. She was poor but proud. She enjoyed the simple things in life until she passed on at age 70. Mom enjoyed small town living.
Now I am 62 and my oldest daughter is in her 40’s. Unlike my Mom, I am divorced and still working. My wardrobe consists of uniforms, jeans, tee shirts, sandals,shorts, and leisure outfits. There is no apron and my hair is bright RED. I only put on dresses for weddings and such. Most of my meals are fixed in the microwave. My air conditioning runs at top speed in my apartment. I DO complain if it does not work properly. The nearest shade tree that I can sit under is down the street at the city park. There is no garden to work in because my little concrete patio is outside my front door and gardening is not allowed here. The patio is big enough though for a potted plant.
Mom was so happy to see 62. Sixty two meant that she and my Dad could finally draw their social security and not have to worry about working outside the house. It even enabled them to be able to purchase their first little home. At 62, I have owned and sold five houses which are gone along with husbands. Social security does not mean security nor the ability to purchase a house. Mom wrote me letters each week and sent them by the United States Postal Service. In them she made many strong suggestions on how I should live my life in the big city. I don’t write letters to my daughters but do read about them on face book now and then. I don’t tell my kids how to live their lives because that would not go over well with them AT ALL.
At 4a.m. most mornings, my Mom was ready to get out of bed to fix a down home cooked breakfast. Since I work the night shift, 4a.m. is a time to stretch, rub my red eye balls, and dream about going to bed. Mom never drove a car. I drive one all night at work. I wonder what she would say about THAT.
Yes, being 62 today is a bit different than when my Mom was age 62. There are still some things that are the same. My mother loved her children and I do too. My mother appreciated the value system that her Mother taught her and I do too. My mother did what was necessary to live her life one day at a time and I do too. My mother had pride and I am grateful to say, “I do too!”