2000: I turn 43

At dinner one new year’s eve, my father told us that one day it wouldn’t be 19 anything; it would be 2000. And when it was the year 2000, he said, he would be 67. He laughed, as if that were something he didn’t believe possible. Then he went around the table and asked each of us how old we would be in 2000, a year that sounded like it might be the one the Jetsons lived in. I would be 43, I said, which would be older than my father was then. We laughed a lot that night at the dining room table at the absurdity of the future.

2000: Y2k dawns without any of the predicted drama, the holidays spitting me into January and the new millennium a limp noodle. As a gift to myself, I head to Canyon Ranch to get a good start on the year. This time I go to Tucson, and as much as I love Lenox, Tucson has more to offer and seems more alive. And the desert is new to me. Driving from Phoenix to Tucson, a tumbleweed actually rolls across the highway in front of me. The story I workshopped with Elizabeth McCracken is turning into a novel. I’ve read lots of novels, and mostly that’s all I know about writing one. The doctor says I need a hysterectomy. I get one. Two weeks after the procedure, as I’m packing the boys for camp, I have a pain that becomes more and more intense. By the next morning I tell Cal I need to go to the emergency room. They give me a shot of something and send me home. A few hours later I’m back and they admit me. I miss Kathleen’s debut–yes, they still do this in the south. I’m in the hospital for three days, longer than for the hysterectomy. They pump me full of antibiotics and laxatives, but say they have no idea what caused the pain. Cal takes the boys to camp, and my parents bring me home from the hospital, my father joking that this is the second time they’ve done this. I spend the rest of the summer eating comfort food, and I don’t even like ice cream. Cal and I celebrate 15 years by going back to Italy. In October we make our second visit to Kathleen in Oxford–tailgating in the Grove and watching Eli Manning on the field. I make banana muffins and pimento cheese, and Cal makes ham biscuits. In December, the Supreme Court rules to end the recount in Florida, making George W. Bush the winner over Al Gore. 60 books this year–with the highlights being Charles Dickens’ Great Expectations, John Casey’s The Half-Life of Happiness and James Salter’s Light Years. Faith Hill sings Breathe, but I don’t think I do

17 days to 60

~

Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
Mary Oliver

4 thoughts on “2000: I turn 43

  1. To be honest it was very hard to not lose all my focus at this confession that you don’t like ice cream. I’m… I… just…. I suppose I will have to accept this astonishing defect in your character and get back to your post. It’s not easy.

    I knew young ladies were still “debuting” (but no one I ever knew b/c I’m not in that social class) but I had NO IDEA your daughter did! Did you but you didn’t tell us about it?? I am 100% fascinated by this and would LOVE to read your telling of it. I’m hoping more and more that you’re going to use these posts to power some longer personal essays. So much rich material to be mined!

    You talk about the hysterectomy in very flat, so-I did-that, terms. Is that how you felt?

    Just when I think Cal can’t sound more wonderful, he makes sausage biscuits. I love sausage biscuits. Almost as much as I love ice cream.

    The year 2000 and that election was a turning point for me. I had no idea at the time that I was naive and wore my own version of rose-colored glasses re our country. The fully sanctioned theft of an election, and the media’s complicity in same, taught me where I really live. Then the reaction to 9/11 taught me a lot more, and now here we are, getting a brand new, far more advanced lesson, aren’t we?

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Damn. It wasn’t sausage biscuits. It was ham biscuits. Country ham. So so salty and delicious. It’s so weird I mixed that up. My grandmother made sausage biscuits. And yeah, ice cream–the one thing I could always keep in the house. I declined the offer to be a debutante. I would have had to stay home for the summer, and I wanted to go to Europe : ) The hysterectomy was not a big deal until I had it–and then it caused all sorts of issues for years. I try to respond to comments in order but had to jump in here to correct the biscuit thing. Now to correct the post…

    Like

  3. I absolutely love this countdown, the writing, the rich information in short snippets is genius and a wonderful read. I have been enjoying your blog for approximately 4 years, and I want to thank you for doing this!

    Liked by 1 person

Your turn...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s