Throwback Thursday stories

On Instagram (where I mostly lurk, but sometimes post), there's something called "Throwback Thursday." On Thursdays, many Instagrammers post old pictures of themselves or friends or moments from the past.

I really enjoy TBT, especially when there's a story behind the photo that the poster chose to unearth.

I never have any old photos to post, because the scanner we have at home is garbage, and also because most of my old photos, for some reason, still live at my parents' house.

But this week, my Mom had me look on the Facebook page of one of her friends, because he had posted old photos of her and my Dad from fall 1972 at Tufts University, before I was even conceived.

These pictures are priceless.

Check out my Mom, her earrings and her Afro:

She was 18 here. Eighteen!

She looks so much like Cary here, I can't get over it.

 

And here's my Dad and his Afro and his 20-year-old physique:

I have no idea who this random woman is, looking so happy to be squeezed by my Afro'ed Daddy.

Anyway, these pictures make me ask so many questions.

What was my Mom thinking when she was staring into space like that?
How did she get her baby-fine hair into an Afro?
What was going on in their lives and in the world at this time?

In other words, I love the photos, but I really want the story behind them!

Who is that chick with my Dad? Who are those people in the photos behind them? Were Mom and Dad dating yet at this point? Was Mom always so effortlessly beautiful? What is the story??

This is why my Mom and Dad should have had a BLOG back in the day! I would have devoured every word.

Old Mommy

Last week, I pulled two 14-inch-long gray hairs from my head. This week, there are 6 more.

Yesterday was the 21st anniversary of the day I graduated from high school.

I remember when I was 21 years OLD. How on Earth have I been out of high school 21 years?

Apparently, I am old. Next week, I'll turn 39. Which doesn't feel old so much as it sounds old. Thirty-nine.

{Shudder.}

My mom complained to me the other day that she was annoyed at being totally gray at 58.
But look how good my hot Momma looks totally gray!

I hate her. (Just kidding. She's awesome. I love her!)

But, man, does she have it good?! She's a young 58 with 5 grown-up children who have children of their own. By the time I'm 58, Cary and Dean will be 22 and Clair will be 20. By the time those kids of mine are ready to have kids, I'll be knocking on 70 (God-willing). Good grief. How did this happen?

I usually feel really good about waiting until I was reallllly ready to have children before having them. That means waiting until I found the absolute right partner (took a long time for that, folks) and until I had done a few things I wanted to do as a solo human being, like travel a bit, buy a house, get my finances in order and not care so much about brunch on Sunday mornings or long, afternoon naps.

But when I think about being my Mom's age with college-aged children, I wonder if I would have done better to get started a little earlier.

Then again, my boss, who is 54, has two sons. One's out of college and living in New York; the other's a junior in college. When we come in to work on Monday and do the obligatory, "How was your weekend?" exchange, my part always sounds something like this: "Wah wah such-n-such didn't sleep...wah wah...craziness...wah wah my house is a mess...schlepping screaming kids around...wah wah...never enough time to get it all done."

His part, on the other hand, usually has the words "outdoor concert," "dinner at this great new restaurant," "golf," and "then we decided to stop and get a drink at [you-name-it cute little spot on the water] and stayed there for hours!"

I hate him. (Just kidding. He's awesome. And so's his wife.)

So maybe there's light at the end of the tunnel. By the time my kids are the ages his kids are, I'll only be 4 years older than he is now. That's not so bad. Lester will be even younger (lucky dog). So I can look forward to hanging out in New York with my (fun, responsible, interesting) kids the way my boss does with his, and lazing around on weekends with Lester, bopping about the city with little else to do but have dinner at great new restaurants, go to fun outdoor concerts and then decide to stop and get drinks at you-name-it cute, little spot on the water.

Hmmmm. When  I think about it that way, 39 doesn't seem so old, and 58 is sounding pretty sweet!