Turning 50

I am not the first, nor will I be the last, to write about turning 50.

However, I will only turn 50 in my lifetime, so it's significant to me.

I celebrated my birthday in Minneapolis, with my family, and a week early. Unknown to me, my husband had been planning the celebration for a year, when we found out in August that our children's "Nutcracker" auditions were on the day after my birthday.

Originally my birthday would have been perfect -- it was on a Saturday, and the same weekend as the Purdue-Minnesota football game; we could have celebrated in the afternoon, and gone to a football game in the evening.

However, there is always good in the bad. As it turns out, my godparents as well as a couple of other people would not have been able to make the party if it had been held on my birthday.

My party (a partial surprise, since I was told it would be at my aunt's -- no slouch location, since they have done benefit concerts there) was at the Nicollet Island Inn. It was a lovely dinner, with just the right number of people in attendance to make it a party, but few enough that I had a chance to talk to everyone at least once, and a few people at length.

It was a low-key party, with no speeches. However, DH did welcome everyone, and had prepared a slide show set to "Linus and Lucy." He had thought of really just about everything -- kids' menu type food for the kids, a choice of salmon or chicken (the salmon was a concession for him -- he hates fish), and a cake from Wuollet's, the world's best bakery.

In spite of a "no gifts" request, I still got gifts -- a lovely rosemaled plate, the Bing & Grondahl Christmas plate from 1957, my birth year, a Cartier watch, which I have to keep locked in our grounded safe when I'm not wearing it. People who didn't bring gifts brought cards, of course.

It was clear that a lot of thought had gone into the preparations. My husband remarked that he was glad it was over -- he doesn't like keeping things from me, even when it's a fun surprise. Most importantly, though, everyone seemed to have a good time. The entire weekend was so "right" that I don't think I could have asked for anything better.

But how do I feel turning 50? Really, I feel no different than 49. In fact, I can argue that I feel better than at 49, because I was surrounded with such love and consideration that I felt loved and important.

50 really isn't all that old -- my grandparents lived into their 90s (and even within spitting distance of 100), so I feel like I'm only halfway through my life. I'm in middle age, and probably have been for a while, which is a good place to be. I am a little sad that I can walk anonymously without attracting admiring glances from men, but really, that shouldn't be important, anyway.

Perhaps I never will feel very old -- after all, I'll always be younger than my big brother.