I Don't Feel 50—Do I Look 50?

Yesterday, I "crossed over to the other side," as my friend Annie puts it. No, I didn't cross Jordan, obviously, but I turned 50. FIFTY. EGAD! As much as I joke about aging, the truth is that it never really bothered me before. Sure, I did a little hand-wringing at 29 and 39, but every decade has made me happier than the one before, so I haven't minded getting older. Till now. Yesterday, when I told my friend Martha that I was lying low and trying to let the big bday just slide on by, she laughed and said, "Oh for heaven's sake! You're gonna get older, so you might as well dive in and celebrate!" To ease the pain of the big day, Dave took me to one of my all-time favorite stores, Levy's. It's one of those great, old-school downtown jewelers, where the staff knows the price and exact location of every bauble and bit of bling. They were busy when we got there, and one obviously wealthy customer was keeping a couple of sales people occupied: "I'll take that, and that, and oh isn't that lovely, now let's see what else . . ."  Clearly, this woman was not on a budget of any kind. (Can't imagine what that would be like, but more power to her for shopping with such enthusiasm.) Dave and I, however, WERE on a budget, and the longer we waited, the more I got the blues, wondering if Levy's might not have any time for us. I shouldn't have worried. As I said, these folks are old-school. We had been waiting about ten or fifteen minutes when an elegant woman named Rhoda walked up and asked if we had been helped. We explained our need for something truly special—and our budgetary situation. (I found out later that Rhoda is actually the daughter of Joe Denaburg, who founded the store in 1922.) She proceeded to treat me like Queen Elizabeth on the hunt for a new tiara. She took her time, leading us to vintage watches and diamond bracelets, showing us the best of the best . . . in our price range. Occasionally, she would say, "Now this is beautiful, but it'll push you a little." When, at last, Rhoda found us The Very Thing, I was so excited with my sparklage that I insisted on wearing it out of the store. As we checked out, she handed me a velvet box. "In case you want to look at it on the nightstand after you go to bed," she said, "it'll show up pretty in this." So thank you, Dave, Mama and Daddy, aunts, uncles, cousins, dear friends, and Rhoda. You got me over the hump. And I am reminded of one of Daddy's wise sayings: "People who say things won't make you happy probably aren't buyin' the right stuff." :) I think I'll be just fine here on "the other side."

Comments

[Wanda McKinney]

Dear Val: You must be mistaken. You can't be 50. You will always be that smiling young Baylor graduate with a fabulous gypsy hairdo who took SouthWord to dizzying heights of spectacular-ness. Good times. Happy Birthday. Wanda

[valerieluesse]

Hey, Miss Wanda! Thank you ever so. I'll take your word for it. Maybe I really am 26 and this is just an awful dream like the one Bobby Ewing had on Dallas . . .