How will you celebrate your life this year?

Fifty-eight years ago, my mother (Donna) took a cab to Mercy hospital because she was having a baby and walking wasn’t an option. No one in our family had a car which didn’t matter because she never learned to drive. Yellow cab to the rescue. When I was younger, I used to tell people that I was born in a taxi. I don’t know why I liked that lie because my start in life was already interesting without exaggerating. Donna didn’t have a husband or a doctor. There was no prenatal care, baby showers or a man by her side welcoming their baby girl. She smoked, drank, and waited tables until she showed up at the hospital ready to pop. I was born on April 22,1964 and Donna Jean Carpenter named me April Jean. She was going to name me Penny but someone in the family beat her to it. What a relief! How would my life have turned out if I were a Penny? I’m glad I didn’t have to find out.

The name April means to open and symbolizes Spring when buds open and flowers appear. Six years after I was born Earth Day was founded to promote ecology and respect for life on the planet. Now every year my birthday is celebrated around the world by people who love planet earth and by some who love me. I’m happy I’m an April even though I’m sure Donna didn’t research the options and the impact her choice would have on her baby girl’s personality. I’m just glad I was born in April and not June. June Jean sounds a little too country for me. I know I’m a hillbilly with Kentucky roots but let’s not flaunt it.

I don’t have a lot of childhood birthday memories but I do recall celebrating one birthday with the Binger boys. They lived in our apartment community. Joe was my age and he had two older brothers. We played pin the tail on the donkey and I was the only girl at my party. Maybe that’s where my love for the opposite sex started because I’ve been boy crazy for as long as I remember.   

The one birthday I will never forget helped change my outlook on how I celebrate my life. I was dating Bill, the manager of the restaurant I worked at (Donna also worked there so that was another crazy twist). Bill was one of my first mistakes in men; he was broke, thought he was a stud, was a chronic liar and an alcoholic. Clearly he wasn’t a great catch so I’m glad he ruined my thirtieth birthday because after that night, I gathered my senses and kicked his ass to the curb. The evening started out great. He took me to my favorite restaurant Dee Felice in Covington, Kentucky. In the day it was a sexy jazz joint and the band played on a tiny stage behind the bar. The menu was Cajun and the combination of music and food made it a favorite for me. Bill swept me of my feet with extravagant gifts and as a young girl I associated that with love. He wasn’t a total ass and I do think he loved me. One birthday he rented a limousine for me and my gals to go out on the town. Naturally, I assumed he had planned something big for my thirtieth. All night long I kept waiting, anticipating. Not for a proposal (hell no) but for a big surprise party. The longer the evening went on,the more disappointed I became and the more we both drank which eventually ended the evening in a huge fight. He took me home at ten o’clock and I was left alone, sobbing, and sad. Not a great start to thirty but I learned a great lesson on that birthday. You can’t expect anyone to make you happy, that’s an unfair expectation. This is not a poor me sob story, it’s reality, and in my life having high expectations always left me disappointed. I learned that you have to take responsibility for your own happiness and I’m glad I learned that lesson early.

From that moment forward I happily planned my own birthday celebration and began using this special day to focus on me and reflect on where I’ve been, and where I want to go in the year ahead. Birthdays are a perfect time to review your Bucket List (everyone needs a bucket list) and ask yourself an important question. Are you’re spending your days doing things you dream of or just going through the motions, year after year? Before you know it, the window in life gets shorter so you can’t wait forever to make your dreams come true. How will you celebrate yourself this year? Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.

Ferris Bueller

is a genius and if you haven’t watched Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, you’ll enjoy it. If you have seen it, watch it again as a reminder to play hooky every once in a while.

This year when I began thinking about turning fifty-eight and moving dangerously close to my sixties, I felt a strange longing to write. In high school I loved creative writing, but since then, my only commitment has been journaling and writing my annual Christmas poem. I don’t think it was an accident that during the pandemic I met an amazing writer, Angela Burton. She introduced me to

Feet to the Fire Writers’ Workshops.

I was in awe of Angela and wanted to learn from her so I signed up for a workshop she was hosting in January, 2022. I was hooked and she taught me that writing requires discipline to commit to the practice of picking up a pen, or your computer and entering your thoughts on to the page. There is nothing to be afraid of. Some things will be good, a lot will be garbage, but the commitment is how you start, and how you learn. She also encouraged reading which is a huge joy for me so that was easy. As a kid I loved the library and the book mobile. Getting lost in a story gave me refuge and showed me that the world was so much bigger than the block I lived on. That was great news to me! It made me hopeful and curious.

Angela helped stir something inside of me and I knew this was the moment. The seed was planted and I wanted to share my thoughts on the Aging experience; from my own point of view as an aging women, and from my gerontological lens. I’ve got lots to say and have some pretty strong opinions (no surprise if you know me). I get very passionate and maybe a little too excited about the topic of aging. That’s why I feel compelled to write about life, healing the past, moving on with the present and growing older with all the gusto you can muster. This is my wheelhouse.

On this new journey I’m learning a lot about myself. I really thought I had unpacked every nook and cranny of my messed up life but I’ve been fascinated by the memories forming when I write. It’s good Therapy and I highly recommend everyone journal. Just keep a notebook handy and write anytime, about anything, as often as you want to. I hope my new passion goes better than my desire to play saxophone. On my thirty-ninth birthday I bought a saxophone because I wanted to be a musician. That didn’t last too long, but last year Pablo bought me a violin after I became obsessed with Lindsey Sterling. It’s on my list of things to learn, maybe next year. One birthday I decided to wear hats. It takes a lot of courage to be a hat person, I embraced it with gusto and I’m still adding to my hat collection. A good hat beats a bad hair day anytime so that’s a bonus for a frizz head like me. I have a feeling I’ve found my sweet spot and this is not a passing hobby. I am writing about something that I know about personally and professionally, in an authentic an open way, and it feels right. I hope you agree so please keep reading and share your own personal stories with me. I want to surround myself by women (sorry guys but I don’t know what it’s like to be a dude) who can lift each other up, encourage Growth and resilience at every age.

This year my birthday plans includes a trip to the incredible Cincinnati Zoo followed by dinner at one of my favorite steakhouse, the Precinct. I might even get really crazy and swing by the Root beer Stand in Sharonville for lunch to grab a chili dog and frosty mug of their famous root beer. I baked my favorite coconut cake and will enjoy every delicious bite because there are no calories in birthday cake. Did you know that? All I want is a simple lovely day with my favorite person in the world, besides me, Pablo. No expectations, no tears, or giant celebrations. Just another day in paradise. What more could a girl ask for?

That’s my story. I would love to hear about yours!