retirement?

The passing of our dear friend Heather MacAllister, at age 38 from ovarian cancer, gives new meaning to the word retirement. In some ways, it is a miracle any of us have made it this far. The baby boomers were the first generation to grow up after "the bomb", and we all knew that the world could end at any second. Not that I really believed it would, but somehow knowing that it could prevented me from starting things that took more than 25 seconds to finish. Hence, for that reason, among others, I finished college when I was 40. Why go to college when the world was going to end?

Yet, here were are. Several of my close friends turned 60 last year, and there is a whole group of us 1953-ers in my circle. Since I was born on January 1, 1954, I throw my lot in with them.

I never thought I would stop wanting to go out to events that start at 9 PM. At parties, we now sit around and talk about menopause. We joke about "how did this happen", while appreciating the wisdom we have hard-earned. My line on turning fifty is, "All those things that used to bother you? You can't remember what they are."

About a year ago, in the middle of Heather's battle with cancer, we were all talking about knee replacement surgery. I turned to Heather and said, "That's what happens when you get old." Her response was, "I'll take it."

Heather was a brilliant choreographer, fabulous dancer, and one of the biggest personalities I've ever had the pleasure to meet. She gave us so much. She will be sorely missed and vividly remembered.