Turning 50 Shades of Grey

     “I’m turning 50 this year; I just want to put a bag over my head and hide!” wailed my friend, Donna who still looks like 12 years old to me.  What is it about hitting 50 that has us in the horrors and makes us think our lives are going to shudder to a halt?
     In November 2012, I attended my 30 year class reunion, Class of ’82, Regina Mundi.  Thanks to the efforts of Anne Nagle and Cara Murphy, there was an impressive turnout.  I nearly didn’t go.  I did feel a cold coming on but my husband said, “Put on your big girl knickers and get down there.”  I knew my best friend, Caroline couldn’t make it so other than curiosity what incentive was there for me to turn up. I enjoyed my time in Regina Mundi – too much – I spent more time in detention than in the classroom and as a result barely passed my Leaving Cert.  Yet….
     As it turned out I wasn’t the only one who felt that way. Kathy, now a solicitor living in Dublin, told us she drove as far as Limerick and nearly turned back; many others confessed to feeling the same way.    It was a great night.  Some people hadn’t changed at all while others had to declare themselves to us.  I was puzzled; I enjoyed myself and yet felt a little guilty for thinking I wouldn’t.  My former classmates were friendlier than I gave them credit for and as the night went on I realised I had more friends than I thought. Was my memory so wrong?
     Some days later I brought this up with my friend, Susie.  Susie went to school in Dublin and has attended every one of her class reunions from the five year up to twenty five. She explained, “When you are in your 20’s and 30’s your life is on an upward trajectory: everyone talks about how great college is, their great career, great husband, fabulous home, their wonderful children, places they’ve travelled, but once you turn 40 all that peer pressure falls away. You suddenly care less what people think.   When you turn 50, your attitude becomes ‘It’s so lovely to see you, how are you doing, are the kids ok?’”
     What I took away from the re-union apart from an enjoyable evening was a sense of perspective. No-one, not even the brainy ones or the pretty ones or the best dressed ones comes through life unscathed.  Every life is touched by sadness.   I felt a real sense of gratitude for what I had; I am still here and I am loved.
     At the hairdressers in June, a new girl was washing my hair.  We chatted about our plans for the summer.  She told me she was treating her mother to a week in Greece in September for her birthday.  She only looked about seventeen.  I said, “That’s very generous of you.” She replied, “Ah well, she’s turning 50, she won’t be around for ever!”