Whew! That’s enough “please” for one day. Now let me bust out a very particular “thank you”.
I don’t know whether it’s because I’m getting into heavier stuff or just a random coincidence, but lately I have been knocked acock, almost on the daily, by this cavalcade of bad-ass elder stateswomen in my life. I’m talking about Marsha Hubbell and Stephanie Chambers and Jane Lumsden and Chris Weiler-Allen and Trayce Primm and even and especially my own dear sweet brick-busting dane-wrangling ultramom, Shirley. They are just so *potent*, y’all. They don’t get hung up on the little things. They don’t get heartburn worrying about what other people think about them. They are just 100% occupied with serving up their glory to the world. And I cannot WAIT to get old enough and real enough to be like them – to stick to my guns and ride for the brand and have not one single thought to spare for what somebody else might have to say about that.
Actually, while I’m at it, let me add Rick Amitin here too. Men of his generation have not been encouraged to wear their hearts on their sleeves, but he has stitched that sucker on there with day-glo nylon. He walks through the world with the assertively kind, unflinchingly affectionate realness that I can only marvel at. He has spent his life becoming the change he wanted to see, and not many folks can say that.
Anyway: gals, I know today is ‘our’ day – and that is as fabulous excuse as any for us old-ladies-in-training enjoy and appreciate the people who have helped us to discover our muchness. It’s a hell of a job, and we are so fortunate that they have hitched up their wonder-wear and waded in to do it.
I don’t know whether it’s because I’m getting into heavier stuff or just a random coincidence, but lately I have been knocked acock, almost on the daily, by this cavalcade of bad-ass elder stateswomen in my life. I’m talking about Marsha Hubbell and Stephanie Chambers and Jane Lumsden and Chris Weiler-Allen and Trayce Primm and even and especially my own dear sweet brick-busting dane-wrangling ultramom, Shirley. They are just so *potent*, y’all. They don’t get hung up on the little things. They don’t get heartburn worrying about what other people think about them. They are just 100% occupied with serving up their glory to the world. And I cannot WAIT to get old enough and real enough to be like them – to stick to my guns and ride for the brand and have not one single thought to spare for what somebody else might have to say about that.
Actually, while I’m at it, let me add Rick Amitin here too. Men of his generation have not been encouraged to wear their hearts on their sleeves, but he has stitched that sucker on there with day-glo nylon. He walks through the world with the assertively kind, unflinchingly affectionate realness that I can only marvel at. He has spent his life becoming the change he wanted to see, and not many folks can say that.
Anyway: gals, I know today is ‘our’ day – and that is as fabulous excuse as any for us old-ladies-in-training enjoy and appreciate the people who have helped us to discover our muchness. It’s a hell of a job, and we are so fortunate that they have hitched up their wonder-wear and waded in to do it.
No comments:
Post a Comment