GOLDEN

Heavier than silver, gold still shines and sparkles.
It gleams and winks so you know it's there, it's still coveted and stolen, bought and traded.

I inserted the song by Jill Scott "Living My Life Like It's Golden" because that's where I am right now.  I'm 46 but somehow I feel okay with that (sometimes a little nervous about 'almost' 50)~!  I worked really hard to get right here - GOLDEN.   I left home at 15, had my daughter when I was 19 and was married twice by the time I was 25.  I had been to college, dropped out, went back and graduated...had jobs, moved all over the place and then bought a home by the time I was 26.   No time to come up for air, no time to breathe - a kid to raise, a divorce, a layoff, a new place to live, gain weight, lose weight - now what?!!

I remember when I was turning forty, a guy that I worked with said don't worry about 40 because that's when you really start to "LIVE YOUR LIFE"...not that I didn't live the hell out of my twenties, but he was right.  In my thirties things just 'happened' to me but somehow at forty I found myself closer to knowing myself, closer to having an answer and things don't seem to weigh on me the same way.  That's not to say I don't worry about money -  but when recently laid off - I took it as an opportunity to reinvent, try something new and start over.  GOLDEN.

Jill sings about "Taking My Freedom" and then what she plans to do with it...I know what I'm doing with mine and I'm GOLDEN.  Okay, maybe I'm broke, but I'm happy.  Maybe I'm turning 50 soon but I EARNED that - every minute of every hour in every day.  Mine and made by ME.  I'm not going to be one of those that sweats and crawls or runs away from "going over the hill".   When people jokingly ask how old I am I let them know.  Not 26 - I'm 46!  

Maybe it isn't the lyrics so much as the way she belts out her happiness...yes I'm free and I'm loving me and I'm letting life be whatever God has planned.  I'm not that religious but I can feel the joy and hope in that song.  Maybe I'll live until I'm 81 - like my father.  That puts me on the clock right?  But maybe, I'll live until I'm 99 - either way life is Golden when you just LIVE IT!   

By definition Golden as a slang term means "good" or "prepared"..."Did you pack everything we need in the cooler for this trip?" - "yeah, we are GOLDEN".  GOLDEN

American

If this blog is my creative journey and this class - digital storytelling is my "Brigadoon" then I expect that part of this "mich mash" will include poetry along with snippets of life unfolding:  I came up with the poem below when I began thinking of myself in color and I thought it would give you a better idea of who I've become so you can follow where I'm going! 

I AM

Green.  My mother’s clan hails from the Emerald Isle; land of leprechauns, deep in the valley of Kings and castles, my great grandparents had potatoes in the field and in their cup at days end. Their children – Catholics - stuck in a Protestant neighborhood, ran to Scotland to pray.

Age 42, she died on St.Patrick’s day in the stone cold city of New York; this is where she came to dream, to live -like an American, driving on the right, making dreams come true….they say it rained all day for a wee lass born in Glasgow, Scotland.

I am - St Andrews cross laid out in Green and White and Orange.  A lost Scott, whose Irish grandfather played the bagpipes at his oldest daughter’s funeral 

I AM
Red.  My father’s people Red Square, The Red Corner and all things krasni (beautiful), Pushkin and Tolstoy, but NEVER Communist.   My great grandfather travelled through Ellis Island with his wife on his arm and $6 in his pocket - a wealthy man. 

It was his youngest son who found himself a strong “German” woman.   Worse than being Communist – falling in love with a Catholic!  My grandfather lost his Russian history the day he married my grandmother, but paved the road for his youngest son to be a New Yorker first and German second 

I am - spatzle, dumpling, lager and borsch.  The only child born to a New Yorker and a woman from Scotland who died too young. 

I AM

White.   Lilly and cream, almost as white as a ghost, forever “Caucasian”;  this is the color you see when you look at me, the color of my vessel during this lifetime. 

My white skin wraps around my husband’s dark chestnut brown body glowing in the moonlight.  My history passed to my olive skinned daughter, who I raise without color but with an understanding that she is the rainbows perfect symmetry

I am – American.  The perfect combination of Russian, German, Irish, Scott, Catholic and New York; a kaleidoscope filled with bright colored chips of history slowly turned, brings together something new, singular and different.  I proudly stand in multicolor disarray.