The Lovely Lady in Pink

Red and blue were the accessory colors I chose for my wedding. Being married in January of the Bicentennial year simply demanded I be patriotic in my choices. My future mother-in-law, J., chose to wear pale pink. She simply could not have picked another color. It was so her. 

I don't remember exactly when J. started her passion for all shades pink but when she committed she committed fully. Bathroom towels, picture frames, rugs, blankets, pillows, planters, all sorts of decor were purchased in mauve, raspberry, light pink, and dark pink. Toothbrushes, hair brushes, dishes, glasses, and lamps. Green was her accent color, but pink was her primary. It could have been so Pepto Bismol but she would insert just enough to make it sweetly feminine but not saccharin. A perfect balance.

She also balanced her life as a mother, a career woman, a homemaker, and an artist. I still use her recipes for homemade ice cream and Company Chicken. Deciding that stained glass was a medium she might enjoy she enrolled in a class and ended up designing a beautiful window for a consignment job. Naturally the design incorporated pink roses. Her watercolors of prairie lands and wildflower fields were framed with love and distributed to family members. Some were sold to admirers of her work. She took aerobics classes with me and remembered the exercise dance routine we performed to the song MacArthur Park for years after the classes disbanded.  She enjoyed music, embraced new technology, loved a good laugh (many times at her own expense), and adored having her family around her. 

Even though my marriage to her son did not last, our friendship endured. I would soon forgo introducing her as my ex mother-in-law and simply say she was a friend. She was always there for me to talk to, preferably while soaking in her hot tub on a cold, snowy night with Amaretto Sours in hand. We went to movies together, ate out, commiserated about our jobs, and, awkwardly enough, talked about relationships after her marriage ended a year later than mine. When she was able to make a long desired move to the warm climate of Florida and to be near her oldest daughter she asked if I would drive her down so that she would have her vehicle. I don't remember what we talked about during that three day trip but I'm fairly certain it was how she was going to decorate her new condo, using various shades of pink.

Over the years we kept in touch though not as much as we would have liked. I visited her in Florida once and we exchanged phone calls occasionally. I was so happy to be back in the Midwest because she had recently moved back here too so she could be in managed care. There would be an opportunity to reconnect. 

Sadly, that was not to be. J. passed away this morning after a brief illness. We will celebrate her full life with a gathering of family and friends in a couple of weeks. 

I need to go shopping for something to wear, preferably in a shade of pink.

If I Had Known Then......

Random thoughts on turning sixty today.

Sixty years ago the supermodel Christy Brinkley and I were born. And there the similarity ends. Well no, wait a minute. In an interview earlier this year she conceded as she gingerly rose from a couch and stretched back and forth, "I'm greasing the joints, trying to get them going....I do feel old when my hips act up!" Now she is talking my language.

Had this younger version of me known then what I know now I would have followed up my helping of birthday cake and punch with a chaser of bran, fish, ginkgo biloba, and green tea. Instead of playing Pin the Tail on the Donkey my group of friends would have done some yoga. At that age (about nine or ten based on the candles) standing on our heads would have been easy. When we went outside to play Tag we would have slathered on zinc oxide ointment instead of the baby oil we would use for years to encourage tanning. I would have told her that having a group of friends around to celebrate birthdays is going to be one of the best things about growing older.

These days there are limitations on the amount of food I want to ingest at one sitting, knowing I don't want to be miserable for hours after a meal. I hesitate more before stepping off a curb, knowing I don't want to be laid up for weeks with an injury. I want a good seven to eight hours of sleep every night, knowing less will make me cranky for a good twenty four hours. Clothes shopping takes less time these days, knowing current styles aren't for my body shape so why agonize? Sunday evening has become my favorite time of the week, knowing a little grandson and his family will be popping in for a Facetime visit.

Now, if my 80 (90?) year old self could just come give my sixty year old self some insights into the next twenty years that would be a very nice birthday present indeed.