I will no longer write about dead or dying parents, though their lives as it impacted mine are fair game. Will only write about 9/11 in the context of something else.
Will not whine; will be clever and witty; will have a daily journal about my incredibly boring life. Will magically become brilliant, incisive and have an amazing life. Oh right, I did in the long ago 1980’s. I was in 30’s then which apparently is the only age one can be interesting–except for even younger.
Thing is I feel like in my 50’s I’m only beginning to hit my prime or stride or whatever.
Several years ago, I was sitting next to two women on the subway. They began whispering to me, “Is that Gloria Steinem?” Yes it was. She was in her late 60’s and in her black tee shirt, and black jeans, she looked a lot like an older me. As the women acted like teenage groupies, I smiled at Gloria who smiled back to me. Sad but it was a defining moment in my life.
After I walked up to the street, I took out my cell and called my mom: “I saw Gloria Steinem on the subway. She looks like an older me. We have the same tight face and figure type.” My mom thought that Gloria had always looked like an older me and was pleased that I had noticed the resemblance. We talked about how Gloria had married for the first time in her 60’s. If I get married then it won’t be for the first time but maybe I’ll be mature enough to make it work.
It’s the little things like seeing Gloria Steinem that make me miss my mother. Who else can I tell these things to? Who else would care? Only somebody who has “unconditional love for my daughters–the best and the brightest” tattooed on her forehead would give a darn.
Yes she really had that tattooed; and I have a picture of my father in drag over my desk, but that’s a whole other story.