The Golden Hip Hoppers

I have often cribbed about my lifestyle; not having time to do the things I want to, working so hard that my eyes pop out by the end of the day, putting on weight because I have no time to exercise since I'm superwoman - cooking, working, cleaning, partying, paying bills, buying insurance..blah blah blah

Last weekend I went through another one of my low phases, another mid life breakdown. Sister had to be called in an emergency because I was breaking down and howling away like a baby. I have no life, I have no love, I have no future doing what I want to do, I've changed and I hate myself....basically the crappy depressive shit that makes one only feel worse. I felt fatigued and tired all the time. The low phase was handled by lots of alcohol, shoved under the rug again...

Then I went home to meet my parents. And for once, I felt truly ashamed of myself. My mom was jumping around like a little kid, chattering away and showing us photos of her in some fashion show, and displaying the catwalk for us, giggling away. She looked gorgeous.

I looked at her. It couldn't be possible she was 60. Where did she get all this zest for life? She basically had nothing that great to look forward to in her life. She had taken voluntary retirement and now spends all her time organising blood/eye camps, donating wheelchairs, attending district meetings for her club, watching TV, or shopping or spending shitloads of money at the gym/parlour/spa.

I looked like shit in front of her. Her friends were right. Her daughters could never match up to her beauty.

Then I listened to my Dad. I tried to give him some obscure lecture on how he should just retire now and learn to delegate more work. This man works 6 days a week, 12 hours a day, running his own business on high tech pollution control instruments. He wishes his kids would take over from him. But that's not possible because one of his daughters is an IT geek, and the other a Jack of all trades, who's jumped 'n' number of ambitions and jobs, still not getting to the writer tag she so badly wants. Who wants to get into scientific instruments?

But he doesn't crib. He works his ass off, and still finds time for his family on Sundays. And now, he has hit upon a brilliant plan. His retired scientist friends are joining his company, because they are all tired of sitting at home doing nothing. This is the 60 plus club, the mecca of all highly qualified people that no one would want to hire. Not only do they work together, they are friends for the last 40 odd years, so they have fun as well. One of them is an avid blogger/poet, and my Dad wants me to have a look at his blog and share my views.

And what about me with my shit fake friends who will go partying with me, but will not come when I say I have a terrible fever and restricted to the bed.

The answer to who has a better life and a stronger mind is pretty evident here. They do deserve it. They've raised their children, lived in lower middle class conditions and homes with peeling walls. These are not their twilight years, these are their golden years.

Someday, I'll be half of what they are. At least, a speck of silver.