Reflections on a New Decade

It was 1969 and a blizzard raged.  My mother, belly bulging, must have been impatient.  Of all days, the baby had to come on this one.  My father dutifully shoveled paths to the car and drove his laboring wife as carefully as he could into Hartford, going down one-way streets the wrong way, spinning out and reassuring her that he was "just testing the breaks."

Nurses recognized my mother as she checked in.  This was her fifth baby; she'd been there many times.  Before long, another daughter.  A girl, when she'd been convinced she carried a boy.  No name in mind for a girl, so days went by and names were tested.  At last my father said, "why don't you name her after your sister?  You know you want to."  So she broke her pattern of names beginning with "M" for girls and declared me to be Beverly.

Today the sun shines.  There isn't even a hint of snow.  I like snow on my birthdays; I feel like the world is remembering how it ushered me in.  I won't complain about warmth and light, though, not in early February.

These round-number birthdays seem more significant.  They're both endings and beginnings.  Every year is, I suppose, but the roundedness of 10, of 20, of 30, of 40 seems to beg for reflection. 

I've had no dread of turning 40.  I'm healthy.  I'm happy.  I have a good life, and I will use my energy to ensure that remains good with the goal of making it even better.  I'm in a much different place than I expected to be at 40.  In my teen years, I thought I'd be an established journalist at this point in my life.  Instead, I floundered about before settling into a career, and I'm not entirely certain that teaching is where I belong.  Writing, of course, simply because to write is to exist.  But until the day when I can dedicate myself exclusively to writing (I have faith in that day), how to make a living?  Teaching is satisfying, but I imagine reaching burn out before too long, especially as I'm not likely to find a tenure-track position.  Lately I've toyed with a return to school in order to enter a career as a librarian.  I'm exploring what the career and the education involves, and I'm pretty excited by it.

I know I'll change jobs again.  I'm curious.  I crave new knowledge.  I've taught college for nine years.  That may be the longest I've done any job.  There's a restlessness that comes from being a curious person.  Information is like crack.  I will go to extremes–moving across the country with nothing but what I can fit in my car, for example–to get the information I believe I need.

So where have I been these last 40 years?  Learning.  Growing.  Figuring.  Loving.  Striving.  Connecticut.  New York.  Oxford.  New Mexico.  Back in Connecticut.

At 21 I married my high school sweetheart, a man I believed to be my soulmate, with whom I shared a true love-at-first sight moment.  We grew up together throughout our 20s.  We learned about life, art, food, travel…so many things together.  When our marriage unexpectedly fell apart, I had a good opportunity to reassess.  I was proud of what I'd accomplished.  I went from a dead-end bank teller job to finishing my bachelor's degree to running an office, to writing professionally, to winning a scholarship to study at St. John's College at Oxford to finishing my MA degree.  Still, I wanted more.  If I couldn't have the life I'd worked so hard for, the relationship that had defined so much of my life up until that moment, then, by God, I was going to grab at the life I'd dreamed of, that I still didn't quite believe was possible.

I had a mentor at that time, a generous woman who encouraged me in applying for MFA programs when I thought my writing wasn't good enough.  She demanded from me, and not one to disappoint those I respect, I produced.  The result was acceptance into UNM's MFA program, and a real shift from dreaming of being a writer to being a writer. 

Along the way, I fell in love with Neal.  I tried not to, if I'm to be honest on this day.  I really wanted to keep things casual.  But in him I found the loyalty, the encouragement, the belief and support that I don't think I ever had before.  And I found myself being a better person in order to deserve that from him.

Now, at 40, I have a strong, healthy relationship.  I have a passion and dedication to writing.  I have hopes for a new career.  I have zillions of books I've not yet read.  I have much to learn about weaving, spinning, knitting.  I have adorable dogs.  I have endless cities and countries still to visit.  I have dear, true friends, both in person and online.  I have a loving family.  I have you, dear reader, to share my celebrations with me.

And celebrate, I will.  I intend to reassess my 100-days goals (I didn't do well with any but the pushups, but there are another 100 days ahead), to indulge while I'm in Chicago for the AWP conference, and to begin working toward my new goals when I return home. 

I hope you'll join me, today, in a moment of reflection and in a moment of celebration.  No matter what life has dealt me, I still believe in hope, in grace, in love, in joy.  May it be like that for you!

And, even though she doesn't read my blog, I"ll say it here…thanks, Mom!