"SECULAR...OR SPIRITUAL?"

(In this picture, taken ca December, 1930-33, Mom is the shortest dark-haired person in the top row. "Tootie" and "Tiny" of the Swimming Pool Incident are sitting on the ground in front of 210 Birch. I was probably in the kitchen licking the frosting off her cake! Festivities were enjoyed by Mayme's sisters and neighborhood cronies!)

On November 17, 2009, at 7:39 a.m., I experienced what might be called a "secular" Epiphany. Webster says an "Epiphany" is a "spiritual event in which the essence of a given object of manifestation appears to the subject, as in a sudden flash of recognition." I'll let you be the judge if my "experience" should be upgraded...

November 17 was a Tuesday, usually reserved for bowling at nearby Action Lanes; however, a plea to drive my bowling partner and her husband to the doctor's office for a blood transfusion/check up for Jim was my first priority. In order to do this "act of kindness" (leaving out Oprah's favorite word "random") I, first, had to get my own body into gear and that meant putting on a fresh face, using a magnifying mirror to hit the high and low spots. A magnifying mirror is a wonderful asset for applying eyeliner, but it is one of the scariest bathroom accessories known to womankind everywhere! It is downright painful to notice a new "line of distinction" (formerly called a wrinkle) cropping up where there used to be "taut" and unblemished skin not that long ago. I admire Dame Elizabeth Taylor for her love for dogs and for her adamant proclamation that she is "one broad" proud of every one of her wrinkles as she earned them the "hard way"...by aging naturally! Not every woman I know will admit that, even to herself. (My big blunder came when I ordered the 12X powered mirror instead of a 3x powered mirror from QVC!) (And, one day I am going to explore why I continue to quote Dame Taylor when our core values are not that close, but that is another story, right?)

As I studied those lines and had pondered enough to realize I had reached an age that my Mom had reached in 1967, my mind was awashed in that "sudden flash of recognition." And this begins the "point" of my story today.

Long ago and far away (like 75 years ago and 2,000 miles away) I was an innocent and unpretentious kid who was pretty much into wood burning sets, building snow forts in the back yard and tying and untying Mom's apron strings when she was cooking in the kitchen...stuff like homemade dumplings, noodles, donuts, ice cream, pies and the most delicious dark brown/almost black chocolate cake topped with warm apricot sauce and whipped cream.

She and Dad were top-notch parents in every department, except they were so....OLD!

My Mom was 42 and Dad was 53 when I was delivered into their well-ordered lives (at the time) but you already know that. My classmates, from the first day of Kindergarten to when I started having these covetous thoughts, had YOUNG parents. To top it off, my parents had two grandsons older than I...I promise you this is not going to turn into a "pity party," simply background noise, and I will say upfront that everyone should have had a childhood like I did in those simpler times when the livin' was easy! Well, there could have been more presents under the tree at Christmas Time but there was a Depression going on. At least the cupboard at 210 Birch was not bare and our tummies were full...dumplings, noodles, donuts...you know!

Flash forward...and OLDER still, but by High School age, I had come to realize that what my "aged" parents lacked in youth, they were more than blessed with the patience, the time and the pride that comes from watching their kid/s do well in school under difficult circumstances...good students, better-than-good athletes, all-around great kids, those Cranston Kids. (This from the mouth of Miss Alma Beckwith, my homeroom teacher...I loved that woman!) My Mom was 60 years old and My Dad was 71 years of age when I was graduated with the Class of 1943...I credit them with any success that I may have had in the educational system. During this time, they carried the extra burden of knowing their four sons in the service during World War II faced the possibility of not coming home from the farflung battlefields. My Dad passed away from a long bout with cancer in 1945 and my Mom in a car accident in 1980 at the age of 97. Yes, the four sons (Ben, Dutch, Perle and Kenny) returned and produced another generation.

There really are two points to this story: here's the other one, and it carries a special kind of humorous twist that will tickle my kind of reader/person...

Dana, you know of her from Facebook, Hockey, Soccer, PTA, USC fame, and our youngest daughter, was born when I was 43 years of age. (Can't you just hear George and Mayme chortling from Somewhere on High?) The tables had been turned on Moi... beautifully and to my complete wonderment! From her Kindergarten Days to High School, Dana had "old" parents in comparison to her classmates but, as far as I know, she has never once mentioned she wished she had "younger" parents. As we did with her older brother and sister, Dennis and Mary, we did our best to help her with homework (though the new math system and vocabulary was "beyond" beyond) had the wisdom of the "aged" to give her enough rope to swing, but not hang, and had the courage to say "No" when the circumstances dictated that we should. With the help of a very special person in our lives...Ms. Sandra Ragusa of Arroyo High School band fame...Dana managed to overcome her basic shyness to be "centerstage," putting on a rather skimpy Flashranker uniform to prance down the main streets of a number of cities in sunny Southern California to compete in Band Festivals and State Tournaments and at football games. When she, as Head Flashranker, and Drum Major Mike Boore (also of Facebook fame and, now, a CHP Motorcycle Office of some repute) paced that top-ranked Band down the streets, as Band Chaperones, Vicki Boore and I just looked at one another and grinned! (I more out of breath than Mike's Mom.)

When Dana was graduated in 1987, I was 62, her Dad 63, and no one noticed or cared one whit. That's the way it should be. If I had a personal creed, it would be that: One should never consider oneself, or allow oneself to be considered, "too aged" whether it be the workplace, on Facebook, or at home raising another "greatest" generation. Before one starts thinking it's time to climb aboard that "cake of ice" which the Eskimos considered a final resting place for their loved ones before shoving them on their way, even if ever so gently, perhaps it's time to start contemplating what Wendell Berry once penned: "It may be, when we no longer know what it is we have to do, that our greatest and most important work has just begun." This is especially important when that daunting Golden Age is upon us!

And I will say...Simply taking up space on this Planet Earth is not my idea of making a contribution. Not important is how many calendars we have tossed away on a yearly basis (I must admit that I did keep my Cowboy Calendar given to me by a good friend in Texas, who nattily wears a cowboy hat most of the time) but how we fill those blank daily spaces on a monthly basis in whatever capacity/blessings we have been given. But, do yourself a big favor, count your blessings before tossing/recycling your 2009 calendar this December 31st. Count them one by one!

If it takes a good long look into your magnifying mirror to get on with the Rest (Best?) of Your Life, then peer with all your might! I would also say: "Elizabeth Taylor, it would seem that you, in this Season of your life and from what I have read on your Twitter page, have managed to get the most important part of your "act" together. I salute you,in the broadest, most melodious and affectionate sense of the word... there is nothing like a Dame!"