Oprah has reason to fete her 50th birthday
By Craig Wilson
USA Today
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The talk show host was talking on TV the other night about the upcoming milestone, saying how happy she was to be nearing the half-century mark. Since she's long been known as the queen of positive thinking, her comments came as no surprise.
She even outlined why she's embracing the birthday. We don't have a clue what we're doing in our 20s, she says, barely improve in our 30s, finally get our act together in our 40s and only hit our stride in our 50s.
I think she's right. I hope so, anyway. So does my sister-in-law, Sue, who is turning 50 in April.
They say 50 is the new 40. Or is it 30? Either way, again, I hope they're right.
When I was growing up, 50 was beyond old. I mean, 40 was old. I remember my mom not being one bit happy about her 40th birthday. I sensed at any moment she was going to walk into a lake, stones in pocket é la Virginia Woolf. Her reaction seems almost quaint today.
But now 50 is just another number, especially for those of us who flew by it a few years back.
Age is a relative thing, of course.
My 84-year-old mother's favorite phrase of late is given with a slow sigh: "Oh, to be 70 again ..."
But not 20.
Oprah's right. I wouldn't go back to my 20s if you gave me a full head of hair. That might not be completely true, but you get my drift.
I was at dinner with friends the other night, and at a table near us were eight twentysomethings. Seven women. One man. All in search of a life.
It was one of the women's birthdays, and the only time all eight were seated at the same time was when a cake with a sparkler on top was brought to the table. The rest of the time was spent circulating, parading and posing.
One scene brought back memories of my prom. Three of the women went to the ladies' room every five minutes. Together, of course.
At another point, four of the women were talking on their cell phones, all sitting in a perfect row on the banquette. Whether they were talking to one another, I'm not sure.
Two of the other women and the young man spent most of the evening ferrying between the table and the bar, adjusting their low-slung pants to expose a bit more of their flat midriffs. Call me bitter.
Finally, I looked over and saw the birthday girl sitting all alone. For a brief foolish moment I considered going over and wishing her well, then realized how scary that would have been for her, especially if she was turning 25 or something and was depressed enough. The last thing she needed was a father figure assuring her everything was going to be OK. She wouldn't have believed me anyway. Besides, I was exhausted just watching their game of musical chairs. I was happy to be 54, comfortable not only in my own skin but in my own seat.
So, Oprah and Sue, pull up a chair and sit down. The view is really quite nice from here.
