Maybe it's because this year is a big one (if we're speaking chronologically, of course). Having turned 40 and barreling at full speed to 41, I've often wondered what I'm supposed to feel like right now. Despite being *ahem* twice the woman I once was, and more tired, and busier than ever I honestly don't feel that much different than when I was 20 or 30. I'm still me; hopefully wiser, calmer and a bit more fun now that I've lived through four decades. But old? I don't know yet how that feels.

Until, that is,  I'm reminded of certain things. Like Marilyn's Facebook post about Cher turning 65. Cher!! The woman I idolized as I was growing up. In fact, one of my favorite memories was being at my Grandma's house one afternoon. For some reason her TV wasn't working, but Sonny & Cher was on and I never–I mean never–missed an episode of Sonny & Cher. So Grandma let me walk to my Aunt Mina's house. This may not seem like a big deal, but imagine two older women, pre-cell phones, letting a little girl walk the few blocks from one house to another for a silly TV show.  That's how much they loved me, and that's how much I loved Cher.

 

Then there was the other day when Adam asked me a question and I said 'that is correctamundo'. He looked at me like he finally had proof I'd flipped my lid, and when I said 'what?' he asked what the heck I was talking about. I shared my love of Happy Days, and Richie and Potsy and the Fonz as he tuned out but pretended to listen to me. You know, how the young ones do when old people start babbling about things that make absolutely no sense to them. Yikes.

Then today I read (first on Twitter) that Paul Splittorff died. The KC Royals pitcher that I followed religiously growing up, tuning into games on our massive TV (and I'm not talking a big flat screen here, folks). I knew his stats, studied his form (pitching form, that is) and my love for him was only shadowed by my affection for Mark Gubicza (hey….he was cute). So now I'm paying more attention. When I hear the name Bruce Springsteen my mind flashes to his hot tush on the cover of Born in the USA, but in reality he is now 62. Still handsome, of course, but no longer the man who flashes in my head.

Makes me wonder….when my kids hit 40, will they be as flustered as I am that their favorites have grown old, just as they grow old? I wonder what a 65 year old Will Smith or a 60 year old Miley Cyrus will look like. Of course I know, intellectually, that we all age and celebrities and idols are no different. It's surreal, though, and reminds me of just how quickly time passes. If I don't see it in myself, I most certainly see it in those I admire. Except, of course, Cher. God help me I hope I look as fabulous at 65 as she does. A girl can hope, right?