Getting Older

I will be celebrating my 50th birthday this weekend. I can't wait. There will be a big barbecue and fireworks. There always is. I was born on the Fourth of July.

I'm not worried about getting older. It's a natural part of life and I've earned my wrinkles, gray hairs and stretch marks. What I am afraid of is death.

Getting older = okay
Dying = not so okay

So, I'm asking all you people who want to joke around with me on my birthday to do so with some tact. You can give me denture cream and a walker... but let's lay off the tombstones, okay?

On my 40th birthday, as a joke, someone put a tombstone on my birthday cake. I almost had a meltdown. It seemed so mean. I know it was lighthearted, but I don't really think I took it as a joke. Death just doesn't seem like a laughing matter to me.

All the nonsense with black balloons and RIP signs just seems so mean spirited when talking about a birthday. Someone who hits the anniversary of their birth--yet again--seems to have cheated death; not earned the need to have their face rubbed in it.

So, feel free to rib me about getting older. I can embrace that. The alternative is what gives me the heeby jeebies. Let's leave the death references to Halloween or All Souls' Day and keep the Fourth of July as a celebration of life. Let's eat cake, get sunburned and light some sparklers. Let's don't get all maudlin and consider shuffling off this mortal coil.

--Sandee Wagner