Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Who's Got the Funk?
funk 1 |fə ng k| informal noun 1 (also blue funk) [in sing. ] a state of depression : I sat absorbed in my own blue funk
Is it just me? Or does the word blue in that sentence definition seem a tad redundant. I suppose there are some funks that are worse than others. In fact, I think I just came out of one. A long one.
As I've written quite a bit on this blog since it began last January, there has been much to remind me of my age. Such as:
* Assessing what I've been doing, or not doing, for the past 20 years to meld into a resume
* Reading thousands of essays from 17-year-old kids helping little old ladies - like 50 - across the street.
* My oldest son graduating from college and getting engaged
* Middle son beginning his senior year of college
* Discovering arthritis in my feet
* My youngest son embarking on his senior year of high school
* My hot flashes trading places with an occasional period accompanied by a growing gut
* Being labeled an "older voter" - one of those over 50
* Getting serious with exercise and gaining 7 pounds
* 64 days straight of 100+ degree weather
* Trying to figure if going back to school at age 54 makes any sense.
Lest I go on?
Last week I turned 53. Feeling drawn into a deeper mote of mope, I felt the need for a jarring experience. I didn't want to jump out of a plane or ride on my husband's motorcycle. I wanted a controlled leap out the rut. Something to let me know I was alive, but the assurance I'd survive the outcome. Like a ride on the Tilt a Whirl or the Scrambler. Instead, much to my husband and youngest son's surprise, I chose the waterpark, Schlitterbahn.
Best thing I could have chosen.
Even though I was afraid to put this older body into a inner tube and ride through chutes and drops, I did it. My favorite was the free fall slide, just my body on a rolling drop. Even channeled my fear long enough to keep my feet crossed so I wouldn't get a wedgie from the pool at the end of the slide.
At the end of the day, we sat in the swim up hot tub bar, a margarita in hand, and I silently cheered myself. I felt good. Came home with only one bruise on my arm and the knowledge that it wasn't about not being a pussy riding rides or having to do something really stupid to prove something to myself. Instead, taking the opportunity to do something out of the norm. Something beyond the usual.
I still love to lie in my hammock and read for days on end. But I'm not dead yet either.
Suddenly 53 doesn't sound so old.
So, who's got some funk?
funk 2 |fəŋk| |fʌŋk| noun 1 a style of popular dance music of U.S. black origin, based on elements of blues and soul and having a strong rhythm that typically accentuates the first beat in the bar.
Please visit my mom at her new blog site Old? Who? Me?