What is it about the zero, particularly when a 5 precedes it?
We commemorate the beginning and ending of great battles and wars with the passage of 50 years.
We host βOver the Hillβ birthday parties for those whoβve passed the 50-year milestone.
AARP gleefully trumpets every actor of note in Hollywood who turns 50. Botox and bleach are but a feeble defense against Timeβs inexorable tick-tock.
And so it came to pass that my husband and I recently tacked the number 50 onto a recent wedding anniversary. Yes, of course that makes us old β though not as old as some might think. There are, it turns out, some benefits to be had for saying βI doβ while still teenagers β namely that you have no idea what you are getting into.
Together we would somehow wallow through the tumultuous β60s, learn to disco and country swing, raise two teenagers, sign five separate mortgages, clean up after a kitchen fire, weather a financial meltdown and mourn the deaths of more family members than I care to count.
We would own over the years a dozen cars and trucks, two boats, three dogs, one horse, a cat, two parakeets, and, in no particular order, several hermit crabs, goldfish and pond koi.
Weβve camped from San Diego to Canyon de Chelly, Yellowstone to Rocky Point. Weβve walked the beaches of Waikiki and crossed the bridges of London, Paris and Rome.
Lucky? You bet. So far, neither one of us has been tested much in that βsickness or in healthβ business. Sure, both of us have tossed and turned on a couple of hospital beds, but never for long, and not with any serious outcomes.
Still, one can feint and dodge what eventually befalls us all for only so long β yet another reason to mark the big Five-Oh anniversary while you can, especially with the ones you love.
Forty-some folks came to our party, ranging in age from a mother-in-law on the cusp of 94 to a 3-week-old granddaughter. Both behaved themselves beautifully.
Many of the guests had not seen each other for years, sometimes decades, which made the party more like a family reunion rather than some sort of glitzy golden affair.
My brother and his wife from Oregon got the unofficial award for journeying the farthest in distance. My parentsβ good friend and next-door neighbor all the years I was growing up got the award for journeying the farthest back in time. I think I was 7 the year she and her son moved into the house where she still lives today.
We hired a musician, sight unseen, who dressed like Johnny Cash and sometimes sounded like him too, though we had asked for songs more along the doo-wop line.
Not that it really mattered, what with all the happy chatter surrounding us. After dinner, we did subject our guests to a homemade DVD that managed to squeeze 50 years into 33 minutes. Nobody made a rush for the exits. Everybody was glad when it ended.
Then it was time for a hurried toast, the cutting of the cake, and more dancing, especially from the younger crowd. I had no idea 4-year-olds knew how to break dance.
We danced last to an old Elvis tune, paid the musician and called it a night. One can only hope weβre still dancing when the number 5 is followed by a 1, and the next year by a 2, and the next year by a β¦.
