I’m taking a brief break from my blogging break. After all, it’s Thanksgiving, and posting on Thanksgiving is a bit of a tradition. This Thanksgiving, I’m giving a shoutout to friendship—and specifically one very special friend.

In September, she turned 80.

I had hoped to have dinner with her in November, but that didn’t work out. Then, she was supposed to have dinner with my husband as my proxy, but he came down with the flu. I promised to send an email which articulated what she means to me, but that hasn’t materialized either.

By now, it’s embarrassingly late. I had one final idea—a happy birthday letter writ large.

Here it is.

My friend worked, to a degree, the way many of us do—to pay the bills. That said, her approach was more eclectic than most. She had her day job which she partnered with related side hustles—passion projects if you will.

In a world where many of us can’t articulate our passions, my friend was dealt a veritable fistful. She not only recognized them; she stitched them together into a career.

But her “big break” came when she was in her 60s during one of those hare-brained-schemes-meets-flash-of-brilliance moments. She received a larger-than-expected payment from a side hustle and parlayed it into her next act.

While most people were plotting their retirement, she stepped up to life’s craps table and put down all her chips. Her bet paid off. She still leads the business that she spawned that day—along with its varied extensions.

At the age of 80, you might find her plying her craft, teaching others, or expanding her offerings. Perhaps, you might learn that she’s off fostering a photography passion in Japan with a renowned photographer because she loves how hard he pushes her.

She is equal parts talent and force of nature, and dear lord I love her to death.

But it’s more than an innate love of her personality. Although I do cherish our way-too-infrequent dinners, I value what her life means to my life. She is my beacon perched on the perilous shore of aging. When my doubts overshadow my abilities, I think of her tenacity. And I do this far more than she realizes.

My husband once read that you should have one friend who was born in every decade. While that may seem challenging, I do believe that you should have at least one friend who is a bit older than you. Someone you admire and want to emulate. A person who will encourage your best and craziest ideas. Someone who will never, ever utter the phrase, Don’t you think you’re a bit too old to do that?

And yet, for as much as I admire her successes, I am in awe of her failures. She relates them with a shrug and a laugh—the rare gift of accepting that our biggest failures are also our most impactful lessons. I struggle mightily to accept failure as anything more than a deep, black hole in which to retreat. Of all her gifts, this one may be the most impressive.

I’ve dedicated the next year to personal introspection and planning—to lay out some challenging and specific goals, to incorporate my passions, to stand on the shoulders of those I’ve admired.

Dear friend, you know who you are. I hope your birthday was wonderful. Please don’t kill me for writing this. It feels so terribly inadequate. Thank you for showing me that aging need not be synonymous with irrelevance.

Julie

Categories: Ruminations

Tags: thanksgiving