I attended an open house for prospective graduate students at a nearby university last night. Looking around the room during the Dean’s welcome, I could see several women in my age range of late-forties to mid-fifties. It was reassuring to know I wouldn’t be an oddity if I were accepted. Then I realized these women were there accompanying their twenty-something daughters who were the real applicants. I scanned the surrounding undergrad faces, remembering so well how it felt to be one of them.
When I first attended college in the seventies, time stretched out before me like a magic carpet of endless days to be filled with whatever came my way or struck my fancy. What was the hurry? There would always be another opportunity, another direction, another sunrise. Thirty-six years, two grown children, an assortment of careers, and no degrees later, I’m dancing as fast as I can toward my B.A. as the daylight between sunrise and sunset dwindles suspiciously.
I know, I know. Fifty is the new forty, green is the new black, carb-free is the new feast. The rules are always changing because those dedicated rule-makers, the baby boomers, have decided amongst themselves that old is the new young. And so it is written. In Botox, Retinol, Ab-Crunchers, and rooms full of artificially tanned faces that smile with no muscle movement. Biblical times may have had Pontius Pilate, but modern times have Pilates. More is always better.
Way back in the day, I slouched through my first year of college, then dropped out. A terrific life ensued that I wouldn’t change a minute of, except maybe those three years of college I blew off because planning for the future seemed optional. Now that I’ll finally have my B.A. this year with visions of a Masters to follow, it was serendipitous to read about Sally Gordon in today’s paper. At 101, she works as a sergeant-at-arms during sessions of the Nebraska legislature, and was named America’s Outstanding Oldest Worker for 2010. Plus she really knows how to wear a hat.
On a related note, a recent story in The Economist explored the movie Avatar and the swelling wave of technical artistry that comprises modern movie-making. No longer an addition to a movie, special effects have become the movie. With a process known as performance capture, flesh-and-blood actors contribute facial expression to computer-generated characters adding a new dimension of creativity to the film landscape. The article speculated that this technology will make it possible to bring deceased actors back to the screen. I find this both bizarre and encouraging. It gives a new meaning to the Academy’s tradition of awarding posthumous Oscars. For those with a fear of running out of time before their goals are accomplished, can the live-action posthumous degree be far behind?
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